


Another Kind Of Discipline

by tangofox



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Armitage Hux Has Issues, BDSM, Dominant Armitage Hux, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, M/M, Sex, Slow Burn, Submissive Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-17 07:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13654566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangofox/pseuds/tangofox
Summary: Seeing the potential danger in the increasingly volatile Kylo Ren, General Hux sees it as his personal responsibility to bring him to heel for the good of the First Order. Luckily, the General has had over a decades worth of experience with a unique kind of training. Kylo Ren agrees to receive the direction he so desperately needs.





	1. Chapter 1

If Armitage Hux had been made aware that his ship would come to be the resting place for the tornado that called itself Kylo Ren, he would have had an enclosure built for him in the storage decks. He would certainly not have ceded to Supreme Leader Snoke's suggestion that Ren would inhabit quarters right down the hallway from the General's rooms.

In ways that he could not have explained without sounding foolish, the Finalizer was the embodiment of pride for him, on an almost paternal level. He had overseen the final tests on the new dreadnought, he had been present when the last adjustments were made, and when the ship was fully stocked before being inhabited. It was during this time that he had made adjustments of his own, giving himself more room than the original plans allowed. It was a rare indulgence he allowed himself, though not out of pride nor greed. He had the original Second's quarters relocated to an adjoining hall, having schematics adjusted so he could enjoy an office attached to his rooms, as well as his official office where the rest of the officers worked. As far as indulgences went, it was fairly impersonal, serving to only increase the General's work productivity, while allowing himself the privacy and quiet that he required to function best. He did not extend his rooms, keeping everything at standard issue, from the simple and slightly uncomfortable single bed, to the Order issued toothbrush that sat in a silver cup atop his sink, so pristine one might think it brand new.

A single locked door led to his hall, his rooms on one side, the rooms of his Second and Third on the other, only his Second knowing the code, the only one he trusted to be smart enough not to use it unless absolutely necessary. When Snoke had suggested that his apprentice take the room of his Third, he had no real objections. He could adapt to the shuffle if ordered to, and learn to live with it. This of course, was before he had actually met the man. Had he been granted a little insight into his character, he might have found some way to come up with an excuse.

Hux had always been a terrible sleeper, and it had not improved with age. From putting himself in aching and stiff positions to bouts of insomnia (both chronic and self-inflicted), he cherished what little sleep he got. It was one of the reasons he deemed it necessary to have the hall to himself. A good night's sleep resulted in a rejuvenated mind, which was imperative when it came to commanding a great army. His rooms were the area where he relaxed, where he found solace in the peace and quiet, with minimal interruptions. Kylo Ren however, was the very definition of a bad neighbor. From nightmare induced tantrums, to fits of pure rage taken out on the furniture, Kylo made noise at every opportunity, no matter what time it was, with no consideration for his sleeping neighbors.

Within the three months he had been aboard the ship, Snoke's apprentice had shown a despicable lack of restraint and self control. From the constant “loss” of data pads and comms devices, to the injury of eleven crew members and the death of two more, Ren had been nothing but a hassle, creating a myriad of messes that the General had to clean up. He was nothing like what Hux had expected, and it seemed his main purpose was simply to get on the General's nerves. Supreme Leader Snoke had spoke of a man with unlimited potential, had painted him as The Weapon to be wielded by the First Order, to succeed in his goals. Hux was sure that Ren had absolutely no desire to help him in his mission to bring order to the galaxy. Less man and more overgrown child; Kylo had given a poor impression, a person prone to tantrums and outbursts, someone who one second would stalk the halls like a harbinger of death, and the next, be ordering personnel to bring him fluffier towels. He showed no respect or regard for authority, considering himself a man above the Order, wielding the Force and his saber like toys. Dangerous, deadly toys.

Despite holding no military titles, at first Hux had attempted to include Ren, to invite him to the daily meetings and briefings, to treat him as an honorary officer despite the fact he had earned no such role. He was Snoke's chosen apprentice, and Hux was clever enough to know not to displease the Supreme Leader. But, all comms went unanswered, Ren only dropping in when he felt like it, always in his ridiculous mask, never contributing and always disturbing. After a month he took him completely off the roster, and Ren had stopped showing up all together. He seemed to have his own agenda, his own mission, completely separate from their own. Ren often held holomeetings with Snoke alone, training in the large comm room for hours. Though training how, he did not know. While curious, he was inwardly happy that he wasn’t invited to stand in front of Snoke any more than necessary.

Still, his curiosity reared enough for him to think of it on dark nights, alone in his room with the now constant noise coming from Ren's room. Clearly Snoke had not instructed him to abandon frivolous enjoyments as had been required at the Academy. Often he heard mumbled talking from various holodramas, or the thumping bass of a rhythm he didn’t recognise. It was obvious that Ren did not find solace in silence. It made Hux wish the man would get some sort of listening apparatus built into that helmet of his, if only to gift the General a few hours in which to sleep uninterrupted.

The man. He knew that much. That if stripped of his mask and robes, Kylo Ren would possess a body that worked just as his did. With loose fitting clothing and not a sliver of skin on display however, the rest was a mystery to Hux. Was he grotesque? Did the mere sight of him cause women and babies to wilt and recoil in horror? The idea of him looking normal, or even handsome, did not cross the General's mind. No, it was much more likely that there was a terror lurking beyond those swathes of black fabric.

He wasn’t sure what it was about Kylo Ren that irritated him the most. If asked he might have cited Ren's penchant for being disruptive. The more accurate answer would be the fact that Ren gave him pause, made him doubt the First Order for the first time in his life. There had always been a plan, a clear way to move forward. Ren was a loose cannon, an unpredictable element that had a great probability of leading them to their doom. He could not see the First Orders future with someone as impulsive as Kylo allowed to wander free, especially with his destructive tendencies. The military thrived in order and protocol, it was needed to keep everything running like a well oiled machine. Ren could ruin _everything_. Could tear apart his dreams for the future, his hopes for a better galaxy. What was infinitely worse, was that their Supreme Leader didn’t seem all that bothered with his protégés wayward behaviour.

——

  
It was on Volik, at the beginning of his career as a superior officer while setting up a new military base, that Hux had what he liked to call his awakening. It had been a mixture of curiosity and self preservation that had led him to the home of a local who had been heard proclaiming he had the power to make and unmake Kings. Hux had found his proclamations to be correct, though his methods proved to be far more intimate than the General could have ever imagined. For six months Armitage Hux had bared every part of himself, had submitted his entire being, had let a stranger absolutely destroy him, only to build him back up, greater than he ever was. The experience had been humbling, humiliating, painful and exhausting, but he considered it one of the major turning points in his life. It was after leaving that planet that he truly felt he stepped out of his Fathers' overbearing shadow, and became his own man.

He had learnt the importance of free will, of submission and loyalty, and how the greatest soldiers will follow their leader into battle because they believe in the one giving the orders. They trust. They respect. They submit their lives willingly and eagerly. It was only through his own submission that Hux had learnt to truly command, to know that those who followed him didn’t do so simply because of his accolades, but because they _believed_ in him, just as he believed in the First Order.

For months Hux was taught the simple lessons of submission, whether it was physically, emotionally or sexually. The training left him raw and at times, tempted to quit, but he did not give in to his weakness. It was only after he realised that he was only fighting himself, that he learnt to let go of his internal resistance. Things had become much easier after that. Despite knowing in his heart that he was meant to lead, to command; he found a simply joy in the routine and tasks that were set in front of him. No matter what instructions his Mentor laid before him, it was routine, something that Hux could fall into easily. It was only in the last month that an eager party was brought before him, a traveller who had come to Volik seeking out his master. The traveller did not receive the beginning of his training from him alone however, instead being gifted the privilege of being Hux’s first, his mentor a guiding hand in the background, though Hux found it was the most natural thing he had ever done. His own submission had allowed him to understand on every level, but it was here that he truly shone. He left when he was told he was ready, returning to the newly finished base, confident that he knew all that the man could possibly teach him, and that he was so much stronger for it.

It was from this that Hux’s insistence on a non-clone army was born. While he did not dominate them all personally the way he had been dominated on Volik, he had adapted those teachings, and had bred an army of capable soldiers who each would press their blaster to their head if he so commanded it. Not out of fear or blind obedience, but out of respect, out of _adoration_. They wanted to follow him. And follow him they did. He wanted men who were trained, wanted to give them purpose. Every orphanage and work site available to them was scoured, taking children from their squalid conditions and giving them a home within the First Order, transforming their pitiful existence into something greater than them all. He could not bestow a higher honour on these children, serving in the First Order Military was something he saw as reason for great pride. The military had always been his life, and he held it in extremely high regard. His soldiers were trained differently from what he had experienced however, stricter in some manners, laxer in others. There were parts of his own training at the Academy that he would not bestow on even the lowest grunt. It would not benefit their training, so it was not necessary. Only the things that would serve to make them the best soldiers were needed.

Throughout the years, General Hux did not idle in his personal life. Whether it be a recruit he had taken interest in, or a junior officer who held more of his attention, Hux found enjoyment in training on a more intimate level, putting certain individuals in the position he had once been in, breaking them only to build them back up again. The relationships had always been sexual in nature, had always been intense and passionate, but there was no real romance there. Hux wasn’t even sure he was capable of such levels of affection. Love seemed such a foreign subject to him, something as distant as the stars themselves. He did not love his family. Had never loved a man that he had taken to his bed. He had no love for his home world, nor anyone from his past. The closest he had was the First Order, which meant everything to him.

Hux made himself available should his former protégés need his assistance, or on those rare occasions he felt he himself could benefit from a visit. Other than that, he let them go, confident that their limited time together had strengthened them both. While Hux would often see two of his former submissives pass each other on his ship, he knew they would not speak about it to one another. They didn’t even know their colleague, their boss or subordinate had once knelt in front of General Hux the way they had. It was a privileged position to them, and it was important to him that things never get messy. It was a secret they would die for. Thankfully he had never had to deal with a subordinate who didn’t know how to let go, who found it difficult to move on in their life without that level of direction. Hux prided himself in his methods, feeling they were never too much or too little, leaving no room for error or mistakes. Life had granted him enough training in the art of perfection that he could easily apply it to any part of his life.

 

\--

The more Hux pondered it, the more he found himself frustrated with Kylo Ren. How exactly was the Supreme Leader training him? He clearly taught him no discipline, no self control. What use is a weapon that cannot be wielded? It took up more of his thoughts than he cared to admit, wondering if they ever did more than work on his connection to the Force, or if Snoke genuinely thought that was enough to succeed. Hux was usually not one to question his superiors. Not unless the situation seriously jeopardised the First Order. He didn’t care about casualties, about loss. Whatever got the job done. But he could see annihilation waiting behind that black mask. The doom of them all. He could not - _would not_ stand idly by while Snoke sharpened a weapon that could very well destroy everything he stood for.

How long would it take for his destructive tendencies to become lethal to them all? That volatile saber of his was already being wielded to destroy parts of his ship in tantrums, it was only a matter of time until he destroyed a vital piece of equipment, and killed them all. Hux was not naive about himself, he knew that if he were to die, the First Order would continue on his mission. He might be an important player here, but it would not fall apart without him. It would continue even if all ninety thousand of them were obliterated into nothing but space debris. But it would be a crippling blow to the Order, the loss of such highly trained personnel, not to mention the loss of the fool who would have caused it all. Privately, Hux found himself concerned that Leader Snoke might find a way to chastise him even in death.

What Kylo Ren needed was discipline. What he needed was order. Certainly not the way he might have experienced under Skywalker. It was evident that the teaching of the Jedi had no lasting effect on him. He did not know the specifics of what had happened at that school, only that Ren had slaughtered the majority, and defected to their side. It was a major win for them, Snoke had told him. Hux had been less than convinced. They didn’t need Force users to win the war, especially not ones as impulsive as Ren. He needed a firmer hand, one with a different kind of experience. One that he felt he was uniquely qualified to provide. Hux had tried to understand the dark side, the beckoning of passion and power. He could give those things to Ren, he could train his body and mind to be the perfect vessels for the raw power he was capable of conjuring.

Before Ren it would have been easy for him to dismiss the Force as cheap magic tricks, as something that held no place in the First Order. Being neither Force sensitive or Force blind, it had little impact in his life, and he felt there were no instances where the force had successfully been wielded in battle. But he had felt the power that thrummed inside of Ren that day he had killed one of the junior officers who had referred to him by a name that Ren insisted stay firmly in the past. Hux did not know the details as to why the name Ben was not to be used; the information was classified even to him, and he had felt no need to pry into Ren’s private affairs, caring little for them. But he had been that day when with outstretched palm, Ren had lifted Sergeant Avidon out of his chair from across the room, the man desperately clutching at his throat as if an impossibly tight chain had been wrapped around him. He watched as the man turned purple. As beads of sweat appeared on the officer's forehead and he had screamed the best he could with no oxygen entering his lungs. Hux did not know how he knew that Ren had his fingers inside of Avidon’s brain, crushing it to a pulp. But he knew. He could read it on his face. Could hear it in his agony. It took less than a minute for him to die, but for Hux and the other witnesses, it had felt like hours of watching torture. He had not intervened. He had simply ordered the clean up of the body and whisked himself off to his private office, only letting his hands shake when he was firmly behind closed doors. That raw untempered power would prove too much for Ren, of that he was sure. He would not stand idly by and let all he had worked for be consumed by someone so petulant.

 

—

  
“Straighten your back out Mitaka, your posture is appalling,” Hux scolds, shifting just enough so he can dig the heel of his boot into the centre of the Lieutenant's back.

“Yes General. Apologies General,” comes back the immediate reply, the officer straightening his back to provide a flatter, more comfortable surface for Hux to rest his feet upon.

In the past month he had seen Mitaka far too much, selfishly calling upon him, knowing that he would eagerly come running. Any of his former submissives would. But Mitaka was the one he felt would be able to come to him without leaving any mental exhaustion or confusion on the man. It was mutually beneficial. That’s what he kept telling himself. It certainly was not because his current predicament was getting under his skin, and he found himself desperately in need of a release.

Seated upon his basic grey couch, datapad in hand, the General relaxed by scrolling through any communications that had been sent his way, while Mitaka held below him on all fours, more than happy to find simple pleasures in an old routine.

“Confidential,” Hux hums with a dig of his heel to get Mitakas attention, earning a sharp nod from the man.  
“I’m planning on taking on a new project. One that I’m not even sure that I can complete.”

“You are capable of anything General,” Mitaka responds quickly, the encouragement enough to make the corners of Hux’s mouth turn up in an almost smile.

“Perhaps. But if we only do what we think we are capable of, we will never grow. We have to challenge the possibility of failure, and defeat it. Crush it.”

That he knew he could do. Destroy anything that stood in his way of success. He was not giving himself an easy task by any means, but it was what he genuinely believed would help.

"It's Kylo Ren."

"You cannot be fucking serious."

Mitaka has moved swiftly enough to catch Hux by surprise, knocking his feet off him and twisting to sit in front of him, the officers face one of concern and frustration. Clearly, since he seemed to preoccupied with his emotions to pay any attention to Hux's protocols.

With a face masking anything that he might be feeling, Hux pulls back his arm sharply, connecting the back of his gloved hand with Mitaka's cheek, hard enough that he will wear the mark for a few days, unless he cows and goes to the med bay for ointment. Hux has a feeling he might be more inclined to wear his shame on his face. Either way, he would not tolerate such insolence.

The next time Mitaka speaks he is bowed low, his forehead pressed against the toe of Hux's boot in a sign of ultimate submission, begging for forgiveness and approval without having to speak for it. "General, I don't mean to question you. But Ren is...I don't even know what he is," Mitaka sighs and allows himself a shudder, though Hux isn't sure it's out of fear or repulsion, or simply a mixture of both. "I know how effective your training can be General. I am grateful every day that such an opportunity was presented to me. But Ren is Leader Snoke's apprentice. Surely he would not approve of your...methods. Surely Ren would not be even capable of doing this..."

"Neither of them are your concern. Trust that what I do is to strengthen the First Order, it's for the goal we are always working for," Hux reassures him, cradling the man's reddening cheek with a cupped palm, thumb brushing gently over the clean skin. "Now get out of your uniform and lie down on the bed. I would see you undone as I used to when we first began."

  
It's only later, after Hux has showered and changed into a set of freshly laundered pyjama bottoms that he allows himself to worry about something Mitaka had said to him. _Snoke's approval_. Putting the idea to Ren had been causing him enough headaches as he tried to formulate an appropriate plan, he had almost forgotten the other important party here. This was nothing like what he was used to. Kylo Ren was not a free man, not really. Dangerous as it was, Hux knew one of the best ways to get his own way with his superiors. Why would they disapprove of something that they thought was their own idea all along? Even if attempting to manipulate his Supreme Leader in such a way left a pressure in his stomach that was almost unending, he would create this plan for the good of the First Order. For the galaxy that he only saw in his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

 

  
If General Hux felt confident in his decision, it had all dissipated by the time Ren breezed past him in his black cloak, followed by four obedient stormtroopers. He didn't need to be one with the Force to sense the nervousness radiating off of them. It was to be expected, given Ren's tendency to take his bad moods out on crewmembers. Nerves he would allow. Fear he would not; not expressed outwardly and certainly not in a way that would compromise the individual. His men did not fear anything. Now and then there was an upset, but it was nearly always rectified by reconditioning. He allowed two rounds before the individual was labelled a hindrance to the Order, and destroyed. There was simply no room for discontent, for mistakes, for doubts. If they weren't living and breathing by the General's orders, they were of no use to him, or the organisation they served.

"Ren, there are things I need to discuss with you," Hux declares, just before Ren can clear the corner with his entourage. His words cause the whole party to come to a stop, the troopers turning to offer a salute, earning a nod from the General in return. "You are to come by my office within the hour. That is all. You are dismissed."

The troopers turn to leave, only to find Ren now turned in the direction of Hux, unmoving, expression hidden under his mask. They seem torn, unsure whether to remain with the man they are ordered to follow around, and who is now ignoring their General, or to obey. Hux at least doesn't need to ask them twice. In mere seconds the troopers are marching off, no doubt to wait by the next door, ready to accompany Ren as soon as he makes another move.

"I'm busy."

Busy? _Busy_? Who did he think he was? This was Hux's ship, and if he wanted Ren somewhere he would go as instructed.

"It was not a request, it was an order," Hux practically seethes, his hands balled into fists. "You will meet me in my office, or you will suffer the consequences."

He was fairly certain that he heard Ren chuckle as he turned to walk in the direction of the bridge, nails still pressing little indentations into his palm.

 

\--

  
It occurs to him while waiting in his office, that his plan lies completely on the fact that he will be able to wholly dominate Ren. Right now Hux was not even sure that he would follow the simple command to even come here. In fifteen minutes he would find himself disobeyed, and would be forced to throw himself out of the flight deck in a fit of shame and humiliation.

In the dim lights of his bedroom, it had seemed like the perfect plan. Something he had always been easily capable of. Mitaka hadn't always been the perfectly loyal Lieutenant be was now. He had always been a firm believer in the First Order, but had strived to set his own path in a way that only served to disrupt the Order. He had achieved excellent scores during his time at the Academy, and had rightfully earned his place as a junior officer. But it was being suitable for a superior rank that had eluded him. He had been egotistical to a fault, lauding his successes over his comrades, and taking liberties in his free time.

It was Mitaka’s liberties that had brought them together. It was two days after it had happened that General Hux found out that Mitaka had sent two elite soldiers to retrieve some information that had come their way. Making no requests, filing no field reports, and telling no one. The mission had gone exceptionally well, with the soldiers coming back with four data drives instead of just the one they were originally after. Hux had been _furious_. Yes Mitaka had completed the mission. Yes he had done a good job. Yes he had taken initiative, but he had done so behind the General’s back. The situation almost became unforgivable. Hux however, had seen potential in the insolence. He had seen a man who he thought would benefit greatly from a guiding hand, and he had offered two rare choices: either go about his job with no consequence as long as the conversation is never repeated, or, submit to his General in an entirely new way. With a cocky smile Mitaka had turned him down... at first. It was barely into the second day when he put in a formal request to meet with the General to ask him to make the offer again. Hux had made him beg for it.

But Mitaka was wildly different from Kylo Ren. Mitaka was a good example of what all his submissives had been like. Full of potential, forward thinking, but in need of guidance. Half of the time Hux was sure that what Ren needed was that saber of his to malfunction while tucked away in his robe. He could only work with what he was given; with what the other party was willing to give him. That low chuckle still rang in his ears, the sound low and metallic, distorted by the mask, and he was sure, entirely mocking. There were times that Hux had felt small in comparison to the man, and not just in stature. He seemed to carry himself as if he were some divine being from another Galaxy. Delusions of grandeur that Supreme Leader Snoke had no doubt encouraged.

He wasn’t sure when he’d begun to question the Leader so much. It had to stop with Ren. Everything else was going perfectly fine. Ren was the sole problem. The sooner he tackled this, the sooner he would feel like the First Order was back on track.

——

Not one to abide lateness, by the time ten minutes had passed by the hour, Hux had completely given up on his foolish plan. Getting Kylo Ren to submit. _Really_. It was almost as ridiculous as the fact that Field Officer Xelo thought the submitted report he was evaluating was anywhere near acceptable. Was she asleep the day they taught you how to tick the correct boxes? He hadn’t even been present on the mission and yet he could still see every single mistake, leaping off the screen at him. Demotion worthy. He would let Phasma handle the intricacies of that. It wasn’t worth his time, or his effort.

When the door to his office slides open fourty minutes later, he’s elbow deep in digital paperwork, a scowl of frustration planted firmly on his face.

“Petty Officer Paze you were ordered not to disturb me unless-“

“Unless Kylo Ren turned up?”

General Hux finds his eyebrows lifted in surprise as he glances up from his datapad, interrupted mid sentence not by the petty officer on duty, but by the masked figure himself. What time was it? Hux, in his frustration, had half a mind to yell at him to get out, and condemn them all out of sheer stubbornness.

“You’re late.” He simply states, setting the datapad down flat on the desk, shutting down the holoprojections that he had dotted around the room for reference.

“I told you I was busy,” Kylo retorts with a move that could possibly be construed as a shrug. It was hard to tell in that ridiculous garb.

“Yes, I’m sure your schedule was absolutely _packed_ ,” Hux sighs, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Please, sit.”

Kylo Ren does not sit. He remains standing, looming over the whole room, making the spacious office feel like a prison cell.

Not one to be challenged, and certainly not one to be looked down upon, Hux rises to his own feet, resisting the urge to don his cap and coat for added effect. He considers asking Ren to remove the mask, but he imagines that would go down just as well as suggesting he use a chair did. Ren’s figure dominated the room, reminding Hux of the older students back at the Academy, those who were made of nothing but hard muscle and aggression. He hadn’t allowed himself to be intimidated by them, and he certainly wouldn’t allow Ren to do it either.

“I want to have a frank and honest conversation with you, Ren. I’ve come to you first, instead of Leader Snoke, because I see no need to partake in this endeavour if you aren’t willing,” he begins, folding his hands behind his back, relieved to find himself slipping back into control with ease, not as perturbed by the man as he felt when he first glanced up at him.

“Now this is going to come across as a surprise I am sure, but at least listen to everything I have to say before you leave. I do not think that your current training regime with Leader Snoke is doing enough for you. I’m not sure as to why, since I’m not privy to what you two actually do, but I don’t feel like you are getting true benefit. I believe that you are impulsive, arrogant, over emotional, reckless, I really could go on. I don’t find it overly rude to say that quite frankly, you are a _mess_. You endanger not only the lives of my crew, but the entire First Order and everything we have worked for. You are a danger to the entire Galaxy. I find myself in an incredibly unique position, in that I believe I may be able to help you. To train you. I am asking Ren, if you would _allow_ this. The training would be gruelling, would require you to submit your mind, body and soul to me. Because that is the essentiality of it. I want you to submit. I want to dominate every aspect of your life, in order to teach you how to control your weaknesses, and how to hone your strength. I will hurt you. I will exhaust you. I will push you to limits you didn’t know you had, and with a careful guiding hand I will bring you back. I will build you into something greater than anything the Galaxy has ever seen. I believe in the potential that Leader Snoke sees in you. I think you are an incredibly powerful man, one capable of ushering in a new era in the Galaxy. I cannot promise you this however. There are no guarantees, that I know. We can only plan and strategise along the way. But I swear to you that I am confident that I can help shape you into the man you need to be. Not the... boy you are.”

Somehow, he doesn’t even find himself surprised as the door slides shut behind the swishing cape, leaving the General dry-mouthed, and once again alone in his office.

——

It’s the middle of the night when the General finds himself waking up to pounding on the door. He’s reaching for his blaster before he’s even turned the lights on.

“Open up,” he hears from the hallway, that all too familiar distorted voice drifting through his quarters.

The banging on the door does not stop as he dresses quickly, but Hux is not about to answer the door to Ren in his pyjamas, not even if the ship is on fire. Even with thirty seconds to dress he still manages to look as if he’s just stepped off the deck, crisp and clean, not a single rumple in sight. Always looking presentable was an art he had perfected back at the Academy.

He opens the door slowly, squinting as the white lights flood his vision quickly, only to be quickly blocked out by a black figure. Kylo is fully dressed, right down to his black gloves. Though on closer inspection, Hux realises that the man has his tunic inside out. Had he himself quickly dressed before hurtling himself towards Hux, something urgent clearly on his mind? It seemed that way at least.

“I don’t know what you think you-“

“Are you just offering this so you can assassinate me as soon as I am vulnerable?” Kylo asks, once again proving to be a master of interruption.

“No.”

“It would probably be better for you if I wasn’t in the picture. Politically anyway.”

Hux simply shook his head. “I do not want to kill you. It would be a stupid move that would likely cost me my own life.”

“Hm. Are you offering this because you want to fuck me?”

If Hux had been drinking anything, he would have spat it out. “When did I-“

“You were thinking about sex during your little speech,” Ren responds simply, as if the very statement didn’t cause Hux’s whole body to twitch.

“Not like that,” he defends with a vigorous shake of his head. “Usually this sort of thing - I do on a more intimate level. It had just been something that I planned to work around. I am offering you this for the good of the Galaxy.”

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me anyway General,” Ren snaps, too much behind that false bravado, leaving Hux to wonder if the great apprentice was actually insecure. It seemed inconceivable. It was more likely that just disturbed from sleep - his sense for these things was simply off. Ren was _arrogance_ , not insecurity.

“Look the point is - the training is not about sex. Yes, it’s been involved in my training in the past, but because it’s been mutually enjoyed,” he tries to explain, placing one hand on the doorframe to stop himself rubbing at his temple. “I have no plans or intentions to be intimate with you in that way. And if you are worried that I might attempt to take advantage of you, know that I abhor weak individuals who partake in such behaviour.”

“This stays between you and I. You will not tell Snoke.”

Hux is genuinely too shocked to say anything as Kylo once again stalks away from him with a swish of his robes. It lost its’ power of intimidation a little, now Hux knew he didn’t even have his tunic on the right way around.

It isn’t until he’s laying in bed in the unusually rare quiet, that it occurs to him he had absolutely no idea how Ren had made it past security measures to his door in the first place.

——

Going behind the Supreme Leader’s back was something that made him incredibly uncomfortable. He wasn’t one to sneak, to skirt around the rules he set for himself. It simply didn’t come naturally to him. But just like manipulation, Hux would have to take the darker path for the good of the ultimate goal. Just like war, it was a necessary evil that was nothing in comparison to what horrors the alternative might bring. Better the annihilation of a few planets over the entire Galaxy. Better the death of a million resistance fighters than the continued tortures that the rest of the Galaxy ensures under the current rule.

Still, the fact that he had to reassure himself several times didn’t bode well. He had intended on going into this clean, with no worries. He was going to have enough of them during the training anyway. It shocked him that there even was going to be training. Ren had seemed utterly opposed to the idea in his office, and despite his questioning, he didn’t seem to have any level of enthusiasm afterwards either. Perhaps he wasn’t even capable of enthusiasm. Hux was laying all his thoughts and predictions on the fact that Ren functioned like a normal human being. He had no evidence to back up that fact.

The buzzing of his comm device is enough to snap him out of his thoughts, assuming that likely one of the superior officers needed him for something.

_I’ll start training with you on Primeday._  
_\- Sent by Kylo Ren, Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke, Master of the Knights of Ren, Sith Lord, Supreme Warrior of the First Order Military, Jedi Killer._

Did Ren genuinely have a brain? Did he really feel it was necessary to alter his comms message to list off a bunch of made up titles? Sith Lord? The Order of the Sith didn’t even exist anymore, and yet Ren thought it appropriate to simply bestow the title upon himself. It was a surprise he hadn’t started calling himself _Darth Ren_ , fully giving into his delusions. And Supreme Warrior? That was a completely made up rank. Hux was academy trained, he could list off every rank in the First Order without making a single mistake. Did Ren mean to style himself as higher than Hux? Did he really think he had done anything in his life to earn those sorts of accolades? That annoyed him the most. Supreme Warrior indeed. Hux would make sure that Ren knew just where he stood in the ranks of the military. As for Jedi Killer; Hux couldn’t care less that he had murdered his classmates. Something told him that the man wouldn’t have lasted five seconds in the Academy.

It would be difficult for Ren to give up control, that much was obvious. But the fact that he seemed willing to show up was a good sign, was enough to give Hux hope that this might actually work.  
First thing, was getting Ren to understand who was in control here, without ending up with a full head of grey hair in the process.

_You will report to the door leading to my quarters at six am, on Zhellday. You will not be given free time until seven pm, so plan accordingly. You do not need to bring anything. You do not need to respond to this correspondence._  
_\- Sent by General Hux_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left comments on the first chapter! It took a big leap to get back into writing, and positive comments have really helped me feel inspired!
> 
> A special thank you to yournameisinmyhands for proofreading this, for being my wife, and for listening to me plan up ways to torture both Hux and Ren!


	3. Chapter 3

 

It had been nearly two years since General Hux had felt the sickening anticipation build up inside him as it did that morning. It had woken him at four am, an hour before his alarm was due to go off, and merely two hours after he had finally managed to fall asleep. The emotions he felt prior to beginning new training always made him feel at odds with himself. He was well aware that it was natural to feel awash with nerves when taking on something new, and that only felt amplified knowing that Ren was the person involved. Knowing that the mission he was undertaking might very well make or break the Galaxy. But still, he didn’t like feeling nervous. It felt weak to him, like something he should be able to easily rise up against. He doesn’t like fighting with the conflicting emotions running about his head. He felt proud at how he was always in control, how he managed to keep a cool and level head as much as possible. It was that attitude that had helped him cement such a privileged position within the First Order. But despite his successes, at times he still felt the need to bolster himself, to remind himself that he belonged exactly where he was. How he was worthy of the position he earned, and that he could rise this high again without any help. That was without even thinking about his potential for greater things.

He was well aware that the current climate would not benefit from any kind of uprising, from himself challenging Leader Snoke. Right now they needed the stability that he provided. There were more important things than Hux’s ego, and he took comfort in his own confidence on the matter. Since he was four years old, he had dreamt of greatness. Had seen it as his purpose, his meaning for being here. Stemmed from words his Mother has said to him - all he could really remember of the woman - it was the one thing that kept him on the right path. He didn’t need to be Emperor of the Galaxy - not right now. He just needed to stay on the path towards it, and focus on keeping everything in order.

His morning is a comfortable routine, something that he can use to calm down the threat of erratic thoughts. While he didn’t usually begin _this early_ , he would make the most of his time. He changes from his regulation pyjamas into a pair of sweatpants he had picked up from the training facilities. His previous pair were getting worn, and he found it enjoyable to unwrap the sealed package around the new ones, to take the crisp clothes out and put on something fresh. He wears them to do his workout routine, something that he does every single morning, letting his mind go blank while he focuses on his body. He begins with an alternation of sit ups and squats, keeping his body in perfect shape, toned but not overly muscular; very little body fat, and zero health issues. He moves on to a round of meditative exercise, stretching out his limbs and holding various poses, keeping his mind as blank as possible. He ends his routine with a fast paced training excercise, one meant to challenge his reflexes and avoid virtual projectiles thrown his way. None hit him, as usual. He works out to a monotone beat, only playing the sound to help him keep pace, the methodical beeping only serving as a training tool. He didn’t need music to enjoy his training. He certainly saw no use to play something that he might enjoy. It would just be a distraction.

After he works out he showers, nothing more than a quick blast to rid himself of the sweat that coated his skin from his workout. He washes his body and hair, using the same unscented and ordinary products that the rest of the crew are given, needing no frivolity in his life. Even when going through Officer Training, developing a sense of self wasn’t ever encouraged. He led as a General, not as a human being. He thought with his brain, not his heart. Life’s indulgences we’re something he was not allowed as a child, and he saw no reason to insert them into his life now he was a grown adult. No, better to keep things simple; without distraction.

He dresses only in his underclothes after the shower, drying and styling his hair meticulously, making sure that not one hair was out of place. He had often thought about buying one of those creams that changed the colour, finding that at least in his opinion, a head full of orange didn’t exactly look commanding. But whether he changed it or not, he still had the pallor that went with his colouring. He would either just look strange, or it would be obvious to all that his hair wasn’t natural. It was a ridiculous thing to feel self conscious about. At least it usually stayed right in the back of his mind.

His breakfast is the same as his lunch and dinner often is, a white ration packet that he pulls out of his cold storage, setting down on the side. The block inside is the same bland colour, slightly gelatinous, and certainly not appealing to the eye. The taste mirrors the appearance, but it provides all the nutritional value needed to keep a human body in prime condition. He cuts half of it into bite size cubes, folding the rest away carefully before taking a plate of the rations to his small table, bringing up a plethora of newsletters and digital stories on his data pad, catching up on everything from local planetary news, to propaganda articles from both sides of the war. It was important for him to stay in the loop, to keep his eyes on the entire Galaxy. He can’t strategise if he doesn’t have the full picture, however unimportant some things might seem to others.

His early rise means his schedule is slightly off kilter. Despite adding an extra set of sit ups and reading extra articles, he had still finished his morning routine too early to exit the room and go meet Ren. He didn’t have enough time to head into his main office for some real work, and his comms device was silent, nothing needing his immediate attention. With his schedule cleared and his day set aside for Ren, he nothing else to do before six. So he sits there in his plain and empty apartment, fully dressed and perched on the grey couch, watching the minutes click by on the wall, doing nothing, saying nothing, just simply waiting to be able to do something useful.

——

General Hux had anticipated that if the training was actually to begin, it would start with punishment. After all, Hux hadn’t exactly seen Ren pay attention to any rules, no matter what they were regarding. Not to mention the fact that his timekeeping was abysmal, even if it was probably purposeful. Such things would not slide if Hux was going to train him. He would behave, he would obey, and he would follow every single rule that was given to him. Hux would punish, but only to a certain extent. If Ren wasn’t really listening, he wasn’t really trying. If this were the case, then this endeavour was a waste of his time.

Yet when he exits his quarters five minutes early to wait for Ren’s arrival, he can see right at the end of the passageway, a black figure looming behind the thick glass panel in the centre of the door. Ren had come. And he had seemingly come early. And to top it off, he had waited where Hux had told him to.

He makes one last uniform check before he saunters down the hall, purposefully taking his time, his heavy boots echoing on the pristine floor. His time was what they were operating on now. Ren would learn how to feel important and unimportant all at the same time. It was already obvious that Ren followed his own set of rules, and had become used to nobody challenging him on it. Perhaps nobody had challenged him his entire life. Hux wondered what that might be like, to skirt through life with such ease, to not have an authority looming over you, waiting to punish for any misstep you might take. If Kylo did not know what that was like, he would soon learn.

Hux is slow inputting the code, moving to stand with his hands behind his back as the door slides open, cleaving through the quiet. Even under all those robes it was obvious Kylo felt agitated, perhaps nervous. The negative energy was palpable around him, enough so that even someone not in tune with the Force could pick up on it. That was natural, but Hux did not plan on making any attempt to soothe him. At least not yet. He had a plan to stick to, and it certainly didn’t involve coddling the man.

“Good morning Ren. Thank you for being on time,” he says, at least feeling kind enough to give praise when it’s due. “Now I am presuming that you are actually an intelligent man, going by your ability to respond to people with snappy comments, myself in particular. That and I can’t imagine that someone of low intellect would be able to comprehend this magic you wield.”

It’s deliberately biting and he knows it. Let him see how easily Kylo riles, and what it takes to humble him. He would not get under the General’s skin as much as he had done before. This was far more important than his own pride, or even Ren’s.

“It is not magic,” Ren hisses from under the helmet, a gloved hand curling into a fist. That temper would be one of the main things to work on. It was in his opinion, one of Ren’s greatest weaknesses. “I don’t see what my intelligence has to do with this. Do you intend to have me sit an exam? I have no time for such things.”

Hux only breathes through his nose sharply with amusement, waving a hand and setting off back towards his quarters, signalling Kylo to follow him. It doesn’t surprise him that it takes a few moments before heavy footfalls join his own.

“There will be plenty of tests for you, but not on an academic level, no,” he tells him, reopening the door to his quarters, and stepping inside. “I simply want to know if you can handle the speed in which I intend to introduce you to my training. You will be expected to remember things, and for the most part you will only be told once. Can you keep up with me Ren?”

“Yes.”

“Yes General.”

There’s a long stretch of silence between them as Hux takes them through to his living area, taking a seat on the couch, keeping himself straight backed and at attention, even while seated.

“Yes...General.”

“Very good. Now on your knees in front of me. If you find this position humiliating, good. If you find yourself incapable of subjecting yourself to the very basics, you are free to leave now. Let’s not waste both our times with failure.”

Again the apartment falls silent, the tension thick in the air. With Kylo fully dressed in his robes and helmet, it’s impossible to fully interpret his feelings. Hux needed him to be an open book, sooner rather than later. Cracking open his exterior would leave a raw material for him to work with, instead of a scarred surface that proved impenetrable to his tools. He doesn’t expect this to be easy for Kylo. It wasn’t for him either. It hadn’t been for any of his past charges. But Hux had given him the option to quit. What happened next was completely up to Ren himself.

Slowly, almost as if it pains him, Kylo sinks to his knees, hands balled even tighter at his side. Eventually, Hux would have him sit with open palms; calm and without hesitation. For now though, following the order is more than good enough. He had readied himself for another storm out.

“I would like you to remove your helmet,” he tells Kylo, switching the tone of his voice just slightly, from authoritative to soft; encouraging Kylo, and attempting to show him that this was to be a safe space for him. “I want to be able to connect with you on every level I can. For that to happen, it’s important we can read each other. For that, I think seeing each other’s face is a given, don’t you? I will not ask you to keep your helmet off when there are others around. But when it is just you and I, I would find it preferable to look upon your face.”

Hux can’t help but wonder if those long, silent pauses are deliberate; an attempt by Kylo Ren to knock others off their balance. It reminds him of playing chess, the tension as your opponent waits and plans their next move, as you try to predict which path they will take, and how you will react to it. Hux didn’t lose chess games. And if this were a battle of strategic intimidation, he wouldn’t lose that either.

He keeps the silence as Ren’s hands slowly move to his face, lowering the hooded robe that keeps most of the mask shrouded. Here under the strong lights, with Hux paying only him attention, he can see details on the mask that evaded him before. The thing is dented and nicked, the finish scraped off in places, leaving bare metal just peeking through. He can’t help but wonder if Ren had ordered some scavenger Smith to make it for him, or if Ren had fashioned the device himself. It is not the same quality as the sleek and unblemished helmets that his troopers wear. It is not made with the same high standard. There’s something almost primitive about it, yet also personal. This was not a uniform of one in a million. It was unique from its design to its dents.

He watches as the helmet itself seems to exhale, a quick and heavy whoosh before the front piece pushes forwards, unlocking it from around the mans head. Whether Kylo’s movements are slow out of necessity or underlying emotions, he cannot tell. He pulls the helmet carefully away from his head, and without ceremony, lets it clatter to the floor noisily. Perhaps that explained the state of it.

The General cannot help but stare at him, mouth agape. It’s a lapse in his cool and controlled demeanour, but he cannot bring himself to hold back his surprise at what lies beneath that malevolent looking mask. Hux would have found it less shocking if Ren had removed the helmet to reveal a Hutt underneath. It might have even been a preferable sight. At the very least, such a discovery would have been less of a mental strain for the General. Instead, he is left face to face with a man, just as he had assumed. What he had not taken the time to consider, was that the man beneath might actually look...normal. He could see no exterior deformities, no scars or blemishes that might need to be hidden away. He notes that like his height, plenty of Kylo Ren seems to be larger than average. From the single ear he can see half exposed on one side, to his broad nose and full lips. His jaw is strong, though at the moment clearly tight; no doubt Ren’s teeth are clenched with the tension. Perhaps the most surprising is his eyes. He expected to see terrors of the universe hidden within them. Malevolence and spite. Hatred and violence. Instead he finds the mans eyes startlingly gentle. If he were to guess, he would say that hiding his eyes were the main reason for the mask. He could posture as much as he liked, but there was a naked vulnerability reflected in his gaze, which seemed at odds with the rest of him.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t stare,” Ren snaps, bringing Hux’s focus hurtling back, surprised to hear how defensive his tone is, as if Hux is looking upon a gigantic birthmark, or the facial version of a collapsing star. It occurs to him that his intense study of Ren’s face is making the man feel more than just literally demasked; his shield had been removed, exposing parts of him he wanted to return back from the shadows.  
His voice too is different, now no longer affected by a voice modulator, though still holding the same unwavering strength as before. He might be terrifying in his handsomeness, if it were not for those eyes.

“You are...not what I expected,” Hux only tells him, his voice much calmer than his charges.

The statement earns a flash of something (hurt?) across Rens face before he perfects himself into a steely demeanour. If he means to attempt to be impenetrable, he will fail in this endeavour. However Hux wasn’t going to push the matter. He understood that these things took time. This training wouldn’t be complete in a day. Perhaps not even in six months. Kylo Ren was special, that much he could acknowledge. Whether he was blessed by the universe or not, was an entirely different matter.

“May I look at your helmet?” Hux asks, breaking the silence between them. Kylo had dropped it on the floor next to his knee, his hand resting atop of it. He watches as Kylo’s body reacts to his question, fingers possessively curling around the metal, until they are clutching so hard that the General finds himself wondering how much pressure it would take for it to crack. Had the helmet been designed for protection, or for concealment? Was it purely cosmetic, or was it perhaps a tribute to the man Ren was known to idolise? It seemed he would not be getting any of those questions answered today.

Hux leans himself back into the sofa, almost relaxing against the armrest, yet still managing to keep that aura of power and control around him. It comes naturally to him. It’s what he’s best known for, for a reason. At the beginning people might have thought that he was working his way up the ranks on his Father’s coattails, but he had proven them wrong. His achievements were his and his alone.

“I find it much easier for us to communicate now your mask is off. I am the one person on this ship who you will learn not to hide from. Eventually you will be comfortable with baring every inch of your being to me,” Hux tells him, exhaling with amusement at how Ren’s expression shifts to confusion. “I don’t mean _physically_. Your body is of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. Of course I will train you to be strong, on and off a battlefield. I will certainly be putting you through your paces. But I mean on a different level of intimacy than the one you are no doubt worrying on. Secrets. Hopes and dreams, fears and failures. If I have done my job right, then these will be things that you will feel comfortable sharing with me. Trust is a fickle thing. Rest assured that I will earn it, just as you will earn my respect. This isn’t just about orders and action. It’s about learning to become a better version of yourself.”

“There is nothing wrong with the version I am now.”

“Then why are you still an apprentice?”

“Why are _you_ only a General?”

That at least, earns a laugh, though this one doesn’t reach his eyes. Ren means to snipe at him, to knock him down. It’s a poor attempt. General of the First Order Military was no small feat. He had an equal in the naval division. He answered to Leader Snoke and was considered part of the mans council. There was not much higher he could climb. Whereas Ren’s current physical position represented where he stood in the food chain of Snoke’s own making.

“You are an apprentice because you do not know who you are,” Hux says, answering his own question as he fixes his eyes on the defiant looking man beneath him. “You have been told that you have a great purpose, that power thrums through you in a way it has touched no other. But you have not faced real challenges, at least, I do not think Leader Snoke has thrown any significant ones at you. But please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

Silence.

“You can wield a lightsaber better than someone who is not Force sensitive. Do you wield it better than anyone in the history of the Galaxy? You can stop a blaster in its tracks. Can you stop shots from ten of them? Twenty? Fifty? How many men does it take to topple you? Do you understand the responsibility that has been placed on your head? Do you have a working knowledge of the Galaxy and its planets, on the planets that the First Order seeks to free from the tyranny of the Republic? Do the Knights of Ren follow you out of fear or something else? Do you paddle in the shallow end of your potential like a small child, or have you descended into the deep well of it and discovered if it has an end, or if it’s simply a deep and black expanse?”

Ren only stares back at him with a mixture of anger, frustration and confusion. Of course, these things have not been asked of him before. Leader Snoke has coddled him, whispered nothing but praise in his ear, petted him on the head like a dog.

“Ren, I do not say these things because I wish to rile you, or to upset you,” he says gently, leaning forwards, clasping his hands between his knees. “I am to set you on a throne of my own engineering. To not only help you understand your potential, but to _find_ it. I am sure that on some level, Leader Snoke is helping you. But not enough. I would not see the Force implode within you. It’s counterproductive to my own goals and the goals of the First Order.”

Finally a response. Ren nods slowly at him in what he hopes is understanding, his grip loosening just slightly atop the helmet, his shoulders sagging just enough that Hux can read as a signal of acceptance.

“Why do I get the feeling that you want to throw questions at me that I cannot answer?” Kylo asks him, defensiveness edging his tone, his eyes looking nowhere but into the General’s. It appears he thinks they are locked in some arbitrary contest, as if the one who looks away first will have lost their power. “It’s almost as if you seek to see me humiliated. As if you enjoy it.”

“I do enjoy seeing you humiliated,” Hux admits with a curl of his lips, standing up quickly. Ren immediately follows, perhaps assuming that they are both to leave, or that he only needs to kneel like that when Hux remains seated. “No. Back down unless I order otherwise. Your humiliation is a necessity, and one that I will revel in. If anyone needs knocking down, it is you Ren.”

He waits for his order to be followed before continuing, making sure Ren understands how this is going to work  

“You think yourself much grander than you are. I might speak of potential and unlimited power, but that is far in your future. You have to get there first. And I promise you that your journey will begin with you crawling on your knees.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you for reading, and thank you for positive comments! I’m always happy to know how people feel, especially when it comes to the General!


	4. Chapter 4

 

_⁃ Level Failed -_

The monotone voice cuts through the sound of laboured breathing, mixed with frustration edged growls.

“Again.”

In the large expanse of the training room, Kylo Ren is a black blur among the stark white of the walls, a red flash reflecting in glossy brown eyes, extinguished and ignited again, the man torn by the failure in front of him. He wants to quit. He finds the whole exercise futile and childish. He does not need to prove himself in this way to the General. He is a capable soldier.

The task before him had seemed simple enough. Hit the moving targets that a simulation threw at him in random order. General Hux had modified the program for him alone, and had instructed him to hit the targets only with the tip of his lightsaber, a test of precision and awareness. Hux had told him there would be no tests of an academic nature, but the sweat pouring off of him begged for something as simple as a desk and a sheet of questions. He did not have the patience for this. What did it matter how he swung his lightsaber, as long as the targets were hit?

_⁃ Level Failed -_

“Again, Kylo Ren.”

If he shifts his focus in the spare seconds before the simulation restarts, he can see the General right in the corner of the room. He had not taken a place in the overlooking viewing room, instead having a trooper bring in a chair, still managing to possesses a curious regality, even when tucked away. He could see the grey mass of his uniform, the red hair unhidden, the hat carefully resting upon his coat, neatly folded next to him. If he took a second too long, he could see the flash of bright blue eyes, focused on anything but him. It’s the lack of witness that perhaps frustrates Ren the most. The General had persuaded him with promises of power, greater than what he was achieving now. He had assured Ren that he would train him personally, that he would help him obtain glory. Yet he did not even deem his own exercises worthy enough to watch. Instead his eyes were cast downwards, focused on the datapad in his lap, holograms periodically disappearing and reappearing as he worked on seemingly anything but Ren.

_\- Level Failed -_

They had been at this for three hours now. Hux tucked away in the corner in coolness, while Kylo raged against his futile task. It just seemed like another level of humiliation given by the General. It felt as if he had been duped, as if this was all some cruel prank at his expense, some kind of revenge for the damage he so often bestowed upon the ship. But he did not need to know the General to know that such pettiness was beneath him. There was a purpose to all this which Kylo did not understand. There was a plan he was not privy to, despite the fact he was an integral part of it.

His muscles burned from use, his saber feeling heavier than usual, his body unused to such unbroken physical training. He did not keep himself idle usually, but he had considered himself long past such basic training. His time with Snoke consisted of silent meditation, and his time alone was more of the same. It was more important to stay in tune with the Force than anything else. He did not need to be able to battle like this when he could wield the Force to his advantage.

Kylo was aware that when General Hux mentioned the unimportance of his body, he was speaking of more base desires. He was informing Ren that he had no plans of touching him, or even looking at him in an inappropriate manner. Though the General’s stare after the removal of his mask had said enough that such words weren’t necessary. But, for all his dismissal of Ren’s body, he seemed eager to focus on just that. Though a thought in the back of his mind scolds him for his oversimplification. He knew this was more complicated, it was supposed to serve as training for both body and mind. That didn’t mean he was enjoying it any more.

_⁃ Level Failed -_

This time there is a sharp sigh that emanates disappointment. “Again.”

Ren wonders if the General is reconsidering the task ahead of him. He wonders if he himself is too. This was day one, test one, and he was failing miserably. He did not enjoy the bitter taste it left in his mouth, or the pounding rage it brought forwards in his head. The urge to hurl his lightsaber at the wall was almost encompassing, and he found himself wishing he had the mask to protect his easily read face.

The next time he glances over, the General is staring right at him. He doesn’t need to attempt to make himself appear intimidating and fearsome, it clearly comes natural to the man. He finds the stare unnerving, especially after growing used to Hux’s seeming apathy.

“ _Again_ , Kylo Ren,” he repeats, and Ren finds himself thrown slightly off balance by the softness of it.

If the General did not believe in him, he would not have decided to take on this task. He would not have spoke of the future the way he had done. Ren wondered if Hux had been reconsidering his odds, and had decided that he was the horse to bet on. The encouragement he conjures up in his head is enough to calm his breathing, enough to urge him back to focus. He allows his eyes to close as he turns back away from the General, adjusting his grip on his weapon, exhaling heavily as he prepares himself.

 

_⁃ Level One Complete -_

 

_⁃ Level Two Commencing -_

 

  
——

 

Judging by his appearance, General Hux had estimated Ren to perhaps be in his late twenties. He had been shocked to find out he was actually four years old. This was the only explanation he could reach after watching the man grimace and groan at the food that had been placed before him. He was unused to having a grown man react in such a way towards a meal. Ren had actually gone as far to push the tray in front of him away to cement the fact that he had no intention of eating it. Hux really didn’t get the problem. While a hot and cold menu was available to all the officers on board, the basic ration blocks still were eaten by many. Eating something else would require them both to walk down to the officers canteen, order a meal, wait for it to be prepared, and then bring it back to Hux’s office. Not only would it be impractical, it would be a deviation from routine that Hux had no interest in. He was here to train Kylo, not cater to his dietary whims. He had no allergies to the ingredients in his meal, and it would give him all the nutrients and energy that he needed to recover from the training session.

“If you do not eat, you will starve,” Hux says simply, wiping his mouth gently.

“It looks disg-“ Kylo begins, only to glare as Hux raises a hand to silence him. He has no time for this petulance.

“If you wish to be coddled, you may return to what you were doing before today,” Hux tells him simply, his gaze unwavering as always. “If you wish for results, then you will follow my orders.”

Hux notes how easy it is for Ren to sulk, and how hard it is to steer him away from such behaviour once he’s immersed himself in it. He wonders if it’s out of sheer stubbornness, or if the man has difficulty changing his view on things. Hux understood what it was like to be rigid in your worldview. He also knew that it was counterproductive. He had read as much literature on the fallen Empire as he had done the Republic. He had considered the sides of all, and it had altered his views into a new formed thing, into something that he felt was more evolved than that of his Father’s, or even of his Academy teaching. If something were to challenge these opinions again, it might be difficult, but he would accept that.

“You are more likely to make mistakes when hungry. Your training tomorrow _will not_ go well if you are unprepared,” Hux points out. Ren responds with shrug that, despite Hux’s resolve, manages to get right under his skin. He regretted allowing him to sit at the small conference table with him.

“Since you do not possess any kind of prophetic gift, I will assume that you do not know how training will go at all,” Kylo points out, folding his arms across his chest in an act of final defiance against the General. And this morning had gone so well.

“I do not need to see the future to see the failures of a subordinate who will not take his training seriously.”

“I am _not_ your subordinate. I am Kylo Ren, apprentice to Leader Snoke, Master of the Knights of-“

“I do not care.”

The nonchalance in his words turns Ren’s face red. Whether it is embarrassment or anger, he does not know. He hasn’t had enough time to properly study Ren’s face, his body language, his micro expressions. At least without the ridiculous mask, he could learn.

“If you are going to throw a tantrum, then so be it,” Hux tells him, the scraping of his chair interrupting the sound of Ren’s heavy breathing. “If you are done, place the meal trays outside the door so Petty Officer Paze can collect them. You will not be permitted to eat again today. While you will leave my presence today at seven, I expect you to continue to follow my rules.”

He doesn’t bother to check how Ren reacts to this, only turning to head to his desk, to begin his afternoon tasks.

 

——

 

Hux had in mind something that held a level of sentiment for the rest of his afternoon with Ren. Knowing the man was familiar with meditation, he thought it practical to combine techniques from his past, in order to help him reach into that well he had talked about before. He could not learn to fully control himself if he wasn’t aware of his limits.

They had both been sat in his office for over an hour while he worked, Hux filling in reports, answering emails, and arranging meetings. He had given Ren his own datapad, and tasked him with sorting through the correspondence between the Academy and himself, taking list of the new wave of recruits heading his way, and what departments they would be sorted into. It’s a vaguely menial task, but Kylo does not complain, only keeps his brow furrowed in concentration, and his fingers periodically tapping at the screen perching on the edge of the desk. He had already noted before this even began, that Ren took very little care when it came to objects. From his battered helmet to fried comm devices, he had no respect for property, no matter who it belonged to. Even now the datapad upon which he worked only balanced over half the desk, the rest dangling in negative space, as if he is tempting it to fall. Hux manages to ignore this for a whole ten minutes before pushing the device further back onto the solid surface, saying nothing, only returning to his work.

“How many recruits do you have left to go over,” Hux asks Ren when the clock ticks over the sixteenth hour of the day, causing him to glance up. He loses himself in his work easily, with so much of it to do.

“Estimated one-hundred General,” Ren answers, with surprising obedience. His mood swings were enough to give Hux whiplash. “I have already sorted three hundred into appropriate categories, but I have also made additional lists and notes you might like to look upon.”

“Notes? Like what?” Hux asks as he glances over, his curiosity genuinely peaked.

This appears to spur on eagerness in Ren. He seems to thrive on positivity and attention, wanting to seem as if he is the only person in the entire Galaxy. It’s childish, and only a little endearing. “I made a list of recruits who I believe are not worth your time. I don’t know what you do with troopers who don’t make it into final stages of training, but I don’t think the ones in my list should earn a place within your ranks. I’ve also made a list of noteworthy cadets with recognisable names. It might lead to nothing, but some of them might have important connections, be part of old families that could be of use to the Order. Lastly, I have singled out two recruits who I believe may be Force sensitive. Snoke would want them to join the Knights of Ren.”

General Hux is impressed, enough to let it show on his face. Ren has no training in tasks like this, and he hadn’t expected any extra work to be put into it. Yet Ren had taken steps that an officer might not even consider. It mirrored his own views on his army, on why they should be individuals instead of clones. They all served some sort of unique purpose. Even down to their heritage.

“Thank you, Ren. I will look over these as you begin your next task. You’ve done well.”

It’s hard to ignore the way he reacts to the praise, warmth radiating off of him as if he means to heat the whole ship. Hux resists tugging on his tunic collar. He resists noting how Ren’s eyes practically _sparkle_.

Ren glances up at the clock on the wall, as if he had expected their time to be up already. He appears almost confused when Hux rises to his feet, and retrieved a sleek metal case from the other side of the room.

“Lights at sixty percent,” Hux orders, his tone no different than when he delivers orders to the man sat by his desk. He does not let him see what is in the case as he opens it. “If you would, come behind the desk and kneel next to my chair.”

Ren seems to hesitate, as Hux expected he might, giving him an encouraging nod before stepping aside to make room for him, pushing his desk chair away so he can stand easily as he fiddles in the case. Ren looks visibly on edge as his knees thunk loudly on the floor, causing Hux to wince inwardly. He took about as much care with himself as he did the datapad.

The General sets the case down on the floor behind him, though when Ren turns to see what is inside, Hux catches his chin between gloved fingertips, bringing his gaze forwards and leaving his curiosity unsatiated. Hux stands to his full height to remove his cap and coat, slow in his movements as he had been back in the training room. It’s incredibly different from Ren’s usual method of impatience. He folds up his greatcoat and places it on the edge of his desk, hat perfectly centred atop the square of fabric. He then moves to walk behind Ren, sinking to his knees himself, his legs spread slightly wide so his kneecaps threaten to brush up against Kylo’s thighs.

Hux takes something out of the case and leans forwards, close enough that his breath tickles against Ren’s skin. “Do you trust me, Kylo Ren?” He whispers in his ear, a low tone that manages to remain soft and welcoming, but still feels like a metaphorical guiding hand.

He can hear Ren’s heartbeat quicken along with his breathing, can see how he tenses up in front of him. Hux can’t help but wonder when someone was last this close to him.

“I mean you no harm, Ren. Under my training you are also under my care. You are safe, you are protected. I will not harm you, and neither shall anyone else. Do you trust me? You must tell me the truth.”

He is close enough to feel the shudder that ripples through Kylo before he answers. “Yes...General. I trust you. You have not given me reason to think otherwise so far.”

Ren is slightly trembling as Hux reaches up to render him sightless, placing a piece of black silk over his eyes, tying it securely around the back of his head. He does not need to check if Ren can see or not, he knows the fabric is thick enough to serve his purpose.

“Do you trust me still?”

“What are you doing?”

“Answer the question.”

A pause. “Yes General, I do.”

He reaches around to take a hold of Ren’s wrists, pulling his hands behind to rest against the small of his own back. He doesn’t know why it surprises him to find Ren’s skin soft and warm. It makes perfect sense that he would be so. But still, he’s rendered silent for just a moment as he turns the pad of his thumb over Ren’s pulse point. It takes longer to bind his wrists with the same ribbon, making sure the fabric is flat where it touches his skin, and tying it just right, not enough to feel like a constant presence, but not loose enough to come undone. When he pulls back away, Ren’s skin is hotter than when he began.

“This final part will end our conversing and begin your exercise. Do you still trust me?” He enquires.

“Yes General.”

“Very good. Now, this form of meditation will no doubt be different from what you’re used to. But I ask you to give it a chance. I want you to empty your mind of everything, to surround yourself in the darkness I have placed you in. You are safe, and there is only safety within the darkness. I want you to focus not just on this Force you wield, but on what it feels like inside of you. How it’s power connects to you. I want you to study every tendril of it, I want you to follow it through the expanse of your being. Does this sound like something you are capable of?”

Hux places a gentle hand on Ren’s shoulder when he doesn’t answer, a sign of reassurance that he is here, no matter how strange the situation may be. He accepts his nod over verbal confirmation.

“I’m going to plunge you into further darkness now. I will pull you back here with me when I decide we are done. If you feel uncomfortable or unable to continue, verbalise this. I will end the training session early.”

After waiting a moment for Ren’s breathing to even out a little, he takes two small devices out of the case, and pushes them one by one into Ren’s ears, completely eliminating any noise, taking away yet another vital sense from him. Hux can tell that he’s shocked. He does not need to ask to know that.

His intention was to return to sitting at his desk, to read through what Ren had written up for him, and study it properly. At least, that _had_ been his intention. Once he stands to circle around Ren, he finds himself strangely distracted. The man at least is eager to try new methods, despite the hiccups they had experienced. Hux expects nothing to go perfect the first time. This learning curve is steep, but he is there to push Ren to the top. Sitting himself down in the chair the other man previously occupied, he finds himself studying the man once more, more confident in his assessment now that Ren isn’t aware of his watchful gaze. It still seems slightly dirty to him, like he is stealing glances at something forbidden. But that doesn’t mean he brings himself to look away.

 

——

 

Darkness is a welcome friend for Kylo Ren. Ben Solo used to be afraid of the dark. Of the long shadows it cast, of the way each noise seemed to be amplified. Kylo Ren does not share the same weaknesses his former self did. When he had risen from the ashes of the Solo child, he was already greater than the boy could have ever hoped to be. To him, darkness is comfort, a constant, something that cannot be avoided. He thinks the naming of the “dark side” is appropriate, because it is in that black expanse where he finds his power. It’s meant to be an insult, a connotation to evil. To dark thoughts, and darker actions. But Ren knows the warm embrace that the Jedi never allowed to touch them. Their bodies were just as cold alive as they are in death.

It’s a different experience to be plunged into darkness instead of slowly descending into it himself. It’s like a hand atop his messy waves, pushing him down into a warm bath, forcing him to let his lungs fill up with water, to let it consume him whether he was ready or not. He meant what he said when he had told the General that he trusted him. He had nothing to fear. Shadows could not form where there was no light.

In the darkness he can find the temple he knows is his mind, an ancient design that he was sure many Force users before him had stepped inside. He had a body, but not in the sense of the physical form, it was more as if he were a manifestation of energy, shifting between states, never settling. He’s solid enough to feel the cool black stone against skin that isn’t there, yet corporeal enough to pass through the temple gates as if he were smoke from a fire, seeking to fill every void with his presence. This is as close to a home as Kylo Ren has, a place where no harm can befall him, a place only he can reach. It’s the kind of solitude that brings him peace, though for the first time there’s a intangible presence, almost akin to the feeling of being watched.

The loss of senses is something that he isn’t used to, something that he doesn’t do to himself. When meditating there is always the possibility of something awakening his senses, and in turn awakening him. Here he cannot open his eyes to return to the ship. He cannot use his hands to push himself to his feet. He cannot focus on the thrum of the ship to bring him back to it. He is essentially, stranded. Left in safety, yet left without any obvious kind of safe return. Locked away in his sanctuary, it’s a little hard to remember the man in the room with him, the one who promised he was keeping him safe. He did not need protection in his mind. But his body was entrusted to the General. He can’t help but wonder what would happen if he died right now, if he would be left in this place forever.

He had come here with more than meditation in mind, a command from the General to seek out his power and to explore it. He didn’t see the point. But then so far, he had not seen the point in anything the General was doing. He wasn’t sure if it was desire for praise and approval that was keeping him there, or curiosity itself. He wanted to understand. Was willing to try anything to become not just stronger, but further away from a weak past that threatened to nip at his heels.

The temple is lit by nothing, yet it is not plunged in inky darkness like the outside, at least not to Kylo. He can see everything with perfect clarity, from the smallest to the largest detail. Reliefs hang on either side of the walls, portraits of his Knights, a replacement for the old Masters who had once stood there. He had not wanted them in his sanctuary, taunting him with their presence. Only one remains, larger than life, standing ominously at the end of the hall, the stonework so detailed it was almost lifelike. A visage of his Grandfather, clad in his armour and helmet, a foreboding presence over all. What Hux told him to find must exist within this temple. He must be able to access it.

The temple itself held no solid architecture, rooms moving, stairways shifting. What once led to a room filled with Ben Solo’s memories was now buried under rubble, inaccessible to him, beyond his reach. He had destroyed that passageway himself when his Master had demanded it of him. When he had told him that Kylo Ren could not be born while Ben Solo still lived. It had been easy to kill him, to block away those memories. Harder to live with what he had done. Impulsiveness has always resided within him, and following a task, an order came with little thought. It was only when the consequences started to effect him that he truly weighed up on what he had done. Ben Solo had been weak and easily killed. It had not been as easy to bury him.

He finds himself roaming the cool corridors of his own mind, hands pressed against the stone and yet, not there at all as he glides through the temple he had constructed. At the very top of the temple lies a large room of which he is not the only visitor. Master Snoke sits in there, always present in his mind, always watching and waiting. It makes Kylo feel like he is untrustworthy to need to be watched so often. But he keeps secrets of his own, so perhaps Snoke is right to not let him alone. Even this very visit into the depths of his mind was a secret between only the General and him.

Screaming is heard behind one door, the pleas of a motherless child, of a wounded soldier, of a dying student. These are people who had felt his wrath, felt the mighty power he wielded within his lightsaber. Their cries do not rouse anything within him.

Opposite is a room containing cheers, screaming idolisation for the all-powerful creature he was to become. They cheer for their Emperor and for him, the man who had saved them all from their own tyranny. Who had showed them what freedom really looks like. They were grateful, not vengeful. They thanked him for everything he had done.

Down a set of inky stairs lies a pool that seems to reflect the universe, images changing and shifting with every new glance. An infinite collection of prophetic dreams and visions that he doesn’t understand. Blood painted across fresh snow. A planet exploding underneath his feet. A crown with golden leaves. An empty expanse of space stretching beyond his own comprehension. A flash of red, of blue, of green. A sensation of everything crumbling. He did not stare into this pool for more than a glance unless Snoke instructed him to. The future was a dangerous thing, one best left alone unless there was no other choice.

Somewhere along the ground, a golden orb rolls into view, constant in its motions, not stopping for Ren. Curious, he finds himself following it, the glow warm and yet icy at the same time, tugging at something inside him. He wonders if this is what Hux spoke about. If this little sphere contained all of his power. If that were so, maybe both the General and Master Snoke overestimated him. Maybe he would fail them both.

The orb rolls slowly at first, turning corners with ease, taking stairs as if it has a destination in mind. Kylo cannot feel the ground beneath his feet, but he hears footsteps echo along the stone, calm at first, and then getting faster, making him realise that the ball isn’t moving at a constant at all, it’s going faster, and he’s in danger of losing it. He starts to run, heart pounding in a faraway chest, breathing becoming ragged as the running turns to sprinting, the sphere always too far ahead of him to reach, rolling around corners before he can throw himself around them, spinning faster and faster and faster until it’s nothing but a golden blur.

Then all of a sudden, it’s gone. Kylo has to force himself to a halt when he realises it hasn’t vanished, only thrown itself into an abyss that seems never ending in its darkness, the aura of the ball growing smaller and smaller as it drops into the seemingly endless pit in silence. He has to follow it. The thought makes his heart pound even harder, the sound stretching out into the silence until it seems the whole temple itself is thumping in time with his unstable heart, each thud pushing him further and _further_ towards the edge that threatens to consume him. He’s not scared. He isn’t panicked or anxious. He isn’t hesitant. Except he’s all those things at once, those emotions taking form as beasts crawling around him, skittering against the walls, snarling with putrid breath. The sphere is barely visible now, falling further and further away from him. He can’t let it. He doesn’t know what will happen if he lets it escape. The beasts scream at him as he puts one foot over the edge, the other following before he can change his mind, letting that darkness swallow him whole.

 

——

 

“Ren. _Ren_ , can you hear me?”

Hux is used to this sort of behaviour when training someone like this. Though, never this soon. He didn’t think that Ren had submitted himself enough that he would so easily slip into that place where it was hard to reach him. The placated and distant place the mind went when the person fully gave themselves to another.

He had removed all the black material from Ren, taken out the devices from his ears, putting them haphazardly in the case. Knowing they weren’t properly stored and orderly nagged in the back of his mind, but it was an itch that he would have to deal with later. He had asked Ren to trust him. His annoyance for the man fell aside when he needed to care for him. It was an important part of the duty that he had given himself.

He goes to put a hand on Ren’s shoulder to shake him gently, only to find his own body seize up, suspended in the air, just free enough to let a deep frown set into his face. The sensation is unpleasant, prickling on his skin that reminded him of swarming ants in the damp heat on a distant planet.

“Do not touch me.”

The words make him blink rapidly, a slow realisation settling in on him. Quiet filled the room once again, as General Hux pondered the fact that Ren hadn’t slipped into some sort of distant submissive state, he was simply trying to continue his meditation without disturbance.

“I cannot touch you if I do not have control of my own body,” Hux snaps dryly. “This exercise is over now, Ren. Your attention is needed here.”

He’s infinitely glad that Ren’s eyes are closed as he crumples to a heap in front of him, unable to gain control in time after such an abrupt release of his physical form.

Judging by the quirk of his full lips, Ren was not entirely unaware of what he could not see.

Hux rewards him with a glare, standing up with returned grace, smoothing down his uniform. Ren has a tendency to test his patience wherever he can.

“Kylo Ren. You will return to this room, to me, or there _will_ be consequences. I will not repeat myself.”

His words are met with a raised brow, followed by those two expressive eyes slowly opening to stare upon him, a stare that makes him feel uncomfortable in all manner of ways.

“You cannot instruct me to meditate then pull me out of it before I am ready. Only someone so Force _blind_ would make such an error.”

His glare only intensifies. General Hux can’t help but think that if this were Mitaka, he would have struck him across the face by now. But, Mitaka was better trained. Ren had a long way to go, and Hux could not fault him in his behaviour. Despite how much he wanted to.

“I am not Force blind,” he answers a little irritably, tending to his task now of restoring order to the case behind Ren’s back, moving it up onto his desk to right it without having to crouch down on the floor. “This exercise wasn’t just about meditation. It was a small part of it. This was about following my orders. Putting trust in me enough to give me your very senses. It was about surrender more than anything. Something you did well on, Ren. Thank you for putting that trust in me.”

Rens eyes are closed again, though not with the same level of concentration as before. He seemed to no longer be standing on the line between reality and his meditative state.

“Will you tell me how your meditation went?” Hux asks him as he snaps the case closed. He holds the same level of curiosity as he did about the man’s mask.

“No.”

He can feel the distrust radiating off of Kylo, filling the air until it stifles him. He should know better. Despite the positives today, there had been plenty of negatives too. He shouldn’t push with that trust, it was slowly built but easily destroyed. It seemed that anything personal was off limits to him. Anything with a story that might give him insight into who Kylo Ren was. He would have to wait and see if time thawed out the man.

“Our time together is over for the day Ren,” he says with a sigh, feeling exhausted himself. Though unlike Ren, he still had plenty to do. While focusing on one man, the ship and its crew had been out of his mind. When Ren left his company, that would take priority. “Go to your quarters, clean up, eat some ration portions and rest. We will repeat this tomorrow.”

“I’m not eating that.”

He has to fight to resist pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You do not have my permission to eat anything else,” he tells him, his tone slightly snappy. “I told you this at lunch. You either eat what you are given, or you starve.”

He is met with silence as Ren rises to his feet, his full height not quite towering over Hux, but still managing to fill up too much space, to look foreboding even without the costume.

“Go to your quarters Ren, and I will see you at the same time tomorrow.”

It’s only when his order is followed and he is left alone in his office that he allows his shoulders to sag. It was not enough of a victory to allow himself a stiff drink, but even the water he pours for himself satisfies as a small reward for a job done as well as he could manage given the circumstances. Ren would not submit to him easily. He would fight when he thought it important, and seemingly sometimes, just for the sake of it. But Hux would bend him to breaking point eventually. He would see Ren beneath him in time.


	5. Chapter 5

 

The Bantha steak was staring at him. Not physically, that would be ridiculous. But somehow, it seemed to be challenging him, judging him. He knew the feeling wasn’t caused by the food directly. General Hux had gotten into his head.

It had been three standard days since they had started training together, and three standard days since he had last eaten. The General had sent him back to his quarters after a disastrous training session, leaving him exhausted and apparently not fit to work with for the afternoon. Hux had ordered him not to come back the following day unless he had eaten, and deep down, he knew exactly what that order meant. Still, as soon as Ren had showered, he had a service droid deliver him a plate of food from the officers mess; a large rare steak, creamy mashed potatoes and steaming vegetables. His mouth was watering at the sight of it. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up his eating utensils. It wasn’t like this was the longest he had gone without eating. His lengthiest fast had lasted over a year, but he had not done that on his own, he had his Master’s guidance and infinite wisdom. He hadn’t been forced to fast either, he had just been in a place mentally and physically, where such things were not available to him.

He knew it could be worse. He could be forced to drink those awful Nutrient Shakes that made up the entirety of a stormtroopers diet. They were bitter and yet bland at the same time, and he was sure if he was a trooper, he would have mutinied a long time ago in an attempt to get a better meal plan. He understood why they existed, they had been created to ensure maximum efficiency, as had the sleep pods they were required to use. A stormtrooper was expected to work as tirelessly as a droid, only under even tougher circumstances. The droids did not have the wrath of General Hux to deal with.

He wasn’t used to depriving himself in this way. In being told what he could and couldn’t have. Snoke had encouraged any and all passions that lit under Kylo, and he had been eager to take advantage of it. From limitless credits to spend on what he wanted, to Twi’lek dancers who catered to his every whim. While Ben Solo had been forced to live a life with very little, Kylo Ren was encouraged to live life in excess. He was the Master of the Knights of Ren. He was a powerful Force user. He took what he wanted, and he needed to ask for no man’s permission.

It was what made all of this so strange to him. Thinking back to life before Kylo Ren’s awakening was impossible without disassociating; he found it much easier to look upon his past as nothing more than a stretch of white nothingness, all meaningless existence until he came to find his true purpose. Kylo was an apprentice, but Snoke’s orders never focused on personal activities like what he had to eat. His life had awarded him much more freedom under Snoke than he had ever enjoyed during his time in Jedi Training. As a boy, Ben Solo had endured rigorous training with strict rules, including what he was and wasn’t allowed to eat. Ben had resented those things so much, had hated knowing there was so much out there that Skywalker would not let him experience.

It was far too discomforting to liken General Hux to Luke Skywalker.

But if the comparisons were true, he would not have turned up for the past three days. He would have gored Hux with his lightsaber at the mere suggestion that he bow for someone. Hux was beneath him. Force Blind and ignorant about the importance of his power.

No, that wasn’t true either. If he were truly ignorant, he would not have made this proposal in the first place. He had spoken candidly about how he felt about Ren’s destiny. Perhaps that’s what opened Ren’s mind to the idea of this, the fact that the General could actually see his potential, and see it hovering just out of grasp. It’s easier for him to focus on the fact that this is all something he is doing to further his power, rather than seeing the General as someone who had decided to put himself in charge over him.

He could easily make the decision to not go back. He could eat the meal, he could have a droid bring him seconds, he could turn on music and simply relax in his quarters. The next cycle he could ask Snoke to speak with him, and relay the events of the past few days. He could stay out of sight, only emerging if his presence was sorely needed, and spend the rest of his time doing as he likes.

Only he’s not even sure what he wants to do. What the point in the excess of pleasure was. It had been overwhelming and joyous at first, and while the feeling of being able to have and take whatever he liked made him feel powerful, it didn’t actually make him feel stronger. He didn’t feel his power grow every time he indulged in gluttony or lust, instead feeling a little emptier, like a cavernous hole that could only be filled with the continuation of wanting, having more.

He didn’t have to go to General Hux when the morning began.

  
His musings stretch on long after the untouched plate of food is cold and becoming gelatinous, the smell no longer mouthwatering and appetising. He knows that the tray of untouched food left outside of his room will not go unnoticed by the commander of the ship. He also knows that it will be reported that he ordered a droid to deliver a shipment of ration packs to his rooms.

The taste isn’t as bad as he expected.

He eats three full ration blocks.

  
———

The training of Kylo Ren continues without incident for just over three standard weeks. They settle into a less rigorous routine, Hux needing to balance his duties as General with his commitment to Ren. It’s not an easy task at all. Even before beginning this endeavour his time was stretched thin, functioning on minimal hours of sleep. His time is fit to burst, hours filled with tactical planning, engineering design, star mapping, delegations, paperwork, meetings, and budgeting. That was just the everyday basics. Adding Ren into the mix of that was complicated, leading to the General feeling thin and overstretched, and seriously contemplating if he had taken on more than he could handle.

Unlike the other people he had trained like this, Ren seemed eager to fight him at every turn, as if he didn’t want to be there at all. But the General had long since given up on telling Ren to not bother showing up the next day if he wasn’t really dedicated to it. Every morning without fail, Kylo would be there, always arriving five minutes early, always waiting for Hux to begin his day. The man baffled him.

It was the tense nature of his work balance that led to an odd morning by anyone’s standards. Even if Hux had elsewhere to be, Ren always spent at least two hours a day in training simulations programmed by Hux himself, tasks set to challenge not only his physical self, but also his mental fortitude. Most of the tasks seemed to annoy Ren, he seemed to consider himself far above such things. But for the most part, Hux had been using adapted simulations that were used on the pre-pubescent cadets at Arkanis Academy. Ren was operating far below the level Hux would have liked him on, and while his progress was slow, he at least seemed determined to complete each day. At least, complete it with five hundred complaints along the way.

With the General’s natural talent and interest for advanced weaponry, he had been tasked by Supreme Leader Snoke to create a weapon that would put the technology of the Empire to shame. It was not a small task. General Hux had designed weapons before for the First Order, most notably the Laser Axes that were now used across the Order by Executioner Troopers, and the current prototype Heavy Laser Cannon that was being tested on the battlefield. Still, despite those successes, his current project was worlds away from what he was used to.

Constant meetings with professional engineers, budget planners, benefactors and architects left him irritable and stricter than usual, something the majority of the crew had learned to work around. On those days, the ship functioned at perfect capacity, the officers and crew alike knowing that one mistake could quite easily result in death. The General had never been regarded as soft, but on those particular days, he had a penchant for being especially ruthless.

He’s working on sketches in the observation deck as Ren trains below him, tasked with sparring with virtual soldiers one on one. The exercise awarded him one point for every landed blow, and lost him three for every hit he took. The virtual program left no physical bruising or injury, rather focusing on wounded pride, with an automated voice program that deliberately sounded condescending and mocking. Ren’s score currently sat at -136. Abysmal. Hux knew exactly why he was run so ragged. Because he couldn’t rely on anyone, not even a computer program. He had to do everything himself to get results.

He stores away the sketches he is working on, leaving his data pad in the deck, descending the stairs into the training room, switching the simulation off abruptly, leaving Ren to fall flat on his face as his current target vanishes into the air. The sight is satisfying.

“Are you aware of how low your score currently is?” Hux asks him, his arms behind his back in a casual stance, though the rigidity of his back shows that he is anything but at ease. “I would suggest that it would take you all day to break even, but that is putting faith in the fact you won’t worsen over time. Which we know by now happens often.”

Ren is red in the face and angry looking as he stands to his feet, brushing off his clothing despite the cleanliness of the room. He’s dressed in standard training attire, a skintight compression top with long sleeves, complete with matching leggings. The clothes are made for performance, breathable and flexible, and perfect for training in. Since the attire was usually worn by Academy cadets, there had to be a special request order made to accommodate Kylo’s bulk. While the First Order consisted mostly of humanoid species, there were exceptions, and the company responsible for creating the uniforms were used to special orders being made.

“I can get it back up,” Ren snarls at him, pushing his hair back away from his face, to no avail. Hux couldn’t imagine having hair longer than his Regulation Three haircut. It would drive him mad.

“No, you won’t, because you have absolutely no technique. You do not play to your strengths, and allow a piece of tech to outwit you,” he says with a sigh, taking off his cap, then proceeding to unbutton his coat. “Perhaps you’ll perform better with a little pain.”

“Excuse me?”

Ren is staring at him incredulously, looking at General Hux as if he had just spoken Shyriiwook to the man. Hux doesn’t repeat himself, instead focusing on removing his coat and then his outer tunic, setting the clothes down over in the corner and rolling up his sleeves. Anyone paying close attention would see the myriad of faint white lines that stretch across the inside of his forearms, left too long after incident to be completely removed by medical droids.

“Ren, I’m not going to hurt you,” Hux tells him, voice uncharacteristically soft, with a smoothness that Ren has not heard before. Hux watches as his shoulders sag just a touch, as he lets his body droop with relaxation.

The sound of knuckles connecting with flesh fills the training room, echoing against the white walls.

Ren has staggered back, clutching his cheek, his face an open mask of horror at what had just happened. Hux can feel the rage starting to bubble inside of him.

“One of the most important rules is _never_ trust your opponent,” Hux tells him, drawing his fists up in front of his face, extending one to an open palm, beckoning Ren back into their training. “People lie, especially when they think their lives are on the line. They will do or say anything that might protect them.”

Ren’s face is a mask of betrayal for just a moment, before morphing into something more rageful, and more dangerous. Or it would be, if he knew how to wield it properly. The man’s hand is resting at his hip, fingers flexing as if he’s searching for the lightsaber that currently isn’t there.

When Ren rushes towards Hux like a Blurgg, Hux is prepared and fully anticipating the attack. Still, he does not dodge, instead letting Kylo ram into him with the full force of his body, knocking the wind out of him and sending them both flying to the floor. Kylo immediately goes to land a punch, but Hux is too quick for him, avoiding the hit, using the predictability of Ren’s moves to stay three steps ahead. It’s easy for Hux to roll them, to press his hands against Ren’s shoulders and pin him down, positioning himself with his knee pressed up against his solar plexus.

“You have absolutely _zero_ control,” Hux tells him, having to rapidly duck to avoid a swinging punch to the side of his head, digging his knee in hard enough to cause Ren to sharply roar, pushing at Hux’s chest.

“What the kriff is wrong with you?” He snaps angrily. “How is this helping exactly?”

Hux has noticed that despite all his anger over the ‘attack’, Ren has not used the Force against him. The amount of times a crew member was admitted to the med bay with bruises from invisible hands at their throats was a constant headache for the General. He had expected it to have happened already, for Ren to give up on following the tasks set in front of him, and instead let his rage control his actions, giving in to the desire to take the easy path, to immerse himself in the destructive powers that seemed to come so easily to him.

“You fight with emotion instead of strategy,” Hux tells him simply, removing his weight from Ren’s chest, standing up again and brushing himself down. There was a slight exhilaration in getting to spar like this with someone. He often did so with Phasma, and occasionally assisted in the troopers training, but this was a new challenge that he relished in. “A fight is won by exploiting a persons weaknesses and playing to your own strengths, not with blind rage.”

“Did you need to punch me in the face to prove that point?”

“Yes.”

The answer is simple and without room for questioning. This was not the privacy and the intensity in which they had practiced things such as meditation. For all intents and purposes, this was a battlefield, despite it just being the two of them.

“Try and hit me,” Hux encourages. There’s something vaguely appealing in the way that Ren smiles at the challenge. Something that twists in his chest for a singular moment, until it’s pushed aside for a more focused view.

Ren comes at him with the same unfiltered emotion that he had done with every target today, swinging blindly. Hux has his hands behind his back as he side steps the attack. The second punch follows quickly and Hux ducks, falling into a crouching stance and sweeping his foot under Kylo, causing the man to unceremoniously topple to the floor, letting out a roar that sounds more animal than anything.

“Control yourself Ren,” Hux barks at him, stepping away from the heap at his feet. “There’s a time and a place for letting feelings control you, and it’s certainly not here. Find my weaknesses. Calculate my moves, and exploit them as I am doing with you.”

Hux knows he is a harder target. He is battle trained, used to combat, to having to survive in impossible situations. He won’t go easy on Ren though. It would make him a poor teacher.

Their sparring continues like this for nearly two hours. Kylo flinging his weight around, Hux avoiding and deflecting with ease. But by the end of it, Kylo has begun to learn. Not enough to actually bring harm to the General, but enough to earn praise for his efforts. He had listened, and he had tried to do things Hux’s way. Despite the frustrations that came with constant failure, he had schooled his emotions for the most part, had tried to set them aside as much as possible.

Kylo is sweat soaked and panting, sat in the centre of the floor, his head tilted back to expose his throat, eyes closed as he tries to regain himself. Hux cannot help but stare. He had been so sure that underneath the mask he would find some twisted monster, some gruesome shadow of a man. But Ren was so strikingly handsome, even now it threatened to catch him off guard.

“You are staring. What is it?”

Hux is too busy watching the bob of his Adam’s apple to answer immediately, instead letting himself be transfixed for three whole seconds. “Simply waiting to see if you plan on expiring on the floor, or if you are going to go and take a shower,” Hux repeats dryly. “You stink, and it’s starting to permeate around the room.”

The smile on Ren’s face is far too enjoyable.

 

  
———

 

  
If Ren had not felt the thrum of his mind, heard the thump of his heartbeat, he might have thought General Hux to be a machine rather than a man. Every day he left the man in the early evening, and though he would often return to his quarters to rest himself, he was well aware that the General did no such thing. The tasks he had to do seemed to stretch on, an endless list of things that seemed to need the General and no other.

“Why don’t you have someone to do this for you?”

Ren is watching Hux as he works on a droid, sat on the floor of his personal office, sans coat and hat, an array of tools surrounding him. The droid reminds him of an interrogation model, spherical in shape, though Ren cannot see any tools of torture. He assumes its malfunctioned while with a prisoner, though he doesn’t understand why Hux has to do this personally. There were plenty of people on the ship with the right credentials.

Hux looks up at the seated man sharply, his eyes narrowing as if he is trying to dissect the question before answering. Ren can’t help but think that if he were a much weaker man, that sort of stare might cause him to tremble in fear. He wonders how many recruits had failed advanced training because the withering gaze of their General was simply too much to bear.

“I have advanced qualifications in engineering and robotics,” he answers finally, holding a spanner in the palm of his hand, almost as if it were a weapon. Ren decides that Hux holds everything as a weapon. That he believes anything can and could be used as one. He’s not sure if the man has ever gone a moment without having a plan formulating regarding a personal attack. Had he been attacked in the past? Did he let paranoia get the better of him? Unfortunately, Ren found he knew far too little about the man to even try to make an educated guess.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you or suggest you are incapable,” Ren answers back, his tone edging on snappy. It does not take much to set a fire in him. “You seem to have a thousand things to do constantly, with not enough hours in the day to accommodate this. I only wonder if there are people on board you trust enough to delegate tasks to.”

Hux’s lips curl up in what can only be described as a sneer. “You are implying I don’t delegate. At least one hundred senior officers working at any given time are processing tasks that were originally meant for my hand, and I deemed them not worthy of my time.”

“Yet fixing a broken interrogation droid is worth you time?” Kylo quizzes, brow furrowed in abject confusion.

“Interrogation droid? Since when did I say it was an interrogation droid?”

“You didn’t. I’ve been around such droids enough to know what they look like.”

“If you judge everything by appearances only, you are only going to achieve failure.”

Kylo is silent at this, a frown still marring his face, nothing to comment on as Hux returns to work on the not-interrogation droid. It would have been simpler for Hux to work with him, to give him an explanation as to what this droid was, and why it was important enough to need his attention. His words were laced with derision, and Kylo can’t help but feel like a schoolboy who has made an obvious error. He wondered if such a statement could be implied to the General, then decides no, probably not. From his sharp features to his constantly commanding presence, it would be impossible to look upon Hux and see anything other than a ruthless leader. A man born to take charge, to take what he wanted and not let anything stand in his way. Kylo wonders if he had been dressed in an officers uniform since he was a babe. If Hux’s Mother had handed him over to the military with pride. If he had made sergeant by the time he was three years old. If he had killed before losing his last baby tooth. If he had always been an object of fear.

Kylo lets the silence stretch on between them, the sound of tinkering filling the air, keeping his eyes on Hux, though not knowing nearly enough about robotics to figure out what exactly he was doing. There was a man in his life, once, who had attempted to teach him the mechanics of a ship. Kylo had no patience or talent for it. He imagined it would be similar when it came to a droid. Hux would be more patient than his former teacher. Wouldn’t give up easily. That train of thought is too muddied, too buried under rubble to be continued.

“What is the purpose of this droid General?” Kylo asks with a forced politeness, something unnatural to him. But he knows that Hux likes his rank being respected. He’s learning how to make the man more amicable.

“The body is the same model used for the interrogation droids,” he admits. “Missing most of the vital parts of course. Almost everything inside, is of my own design. The primary function is to be a battle aide, though I do not have the logistics sorted as of yet. I intend to use a smaller model, ideally small enough to be stored in a backpack when not in use, though I’m quite a way off from that.”

Kylo does not bother to hide the interest he knows is written all over his face. “You designed...the inside?” He asks, leaning forward in the chair, as if now he might look and actually understand what the General is talking about him. The sight is still a confusing mess of wires and parts, but it’s become all the more interesting to him.

“My primary interests and skills have always been in advanced weaponry, but I wanted to expand my horizons,” Hux explains, sitting back to lean against the panel of the desk. His hands are oily and black, a strange and stark contrast to his still pristine uniform. Kylo can’t help but imagine that dirt is too afraid to go where Hux will not allow it. “I wanted to create something multi functional, something to assist smaller ground teams. Mapping capabilities, terrain and environment predictions. Basic medical evaluations. A constant field recorder. It would reduce the amount of supplies a team would need to bring into the battlefield, and provide accurate information that usually can only come from pre-planning, and is left entirely to chance when on the ground. With this, I hope to greatly increase the chance of mission success, and decrease dangers to the teams, especially environmental ones.”

Ren, who is always quick to come back with snappy and sarcastic, finds himself with nothing to say in response. He had always been quick and eager to write Hux off as nothing more than a soldier with a good head for command. His mind was too well guarded for Ren to infiltrate, to find anything other than the most potent of surface thoughts. He was unaware there was anything in his head that was even remotely interesting, yet here the General was, working on a hidden talent as if it’s no big deal. Only, it isn’t a hidden talent. Ren is sure that plenty of people in the galaxy know just how talented General Hux is. He just didn’t care to see it.

“I built my lightsaber myself,” Ren offers finally, feeling a need to contribute in some way, to offer a fact in the same vein as Hux’s inventions.

The generals brows quirk up, eyes flickering towards Kylo before going back to his work. “And?”

Kylo can feel himself deflate at the reaction. He had built it with his own hands and ingenuity, had worked around the broken crystal to create something magnificent, something that other Force users always were in awe of. Yet the General barely even batted an eyelash at his achievement. As if it wasn’t worth anything.

He wonders what actually will impress the General. He seemed to be pleased when Kylo completed the tasks he set for him. But that was different. He wasn’t impressed, wasn’t awe-struck at Ren’s greatness. The Knight is barely consciously aware of the thought he tucks back in his mind, a plan to find out what exactly would make the General look upon him with reverence reflected in his sharp eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, I’ve downgraded the fic from explicit to mature, just for now. If you’re reading this expecting mountains of smut, you’re in the wrong place. This is going to be some slow burning, with lots of frustration and angst peppered in. Things ain’t ever going to be that easy with these two emotionally stunted idiots!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and thank you for comments, they really make my day!


	6. Chapter 6

 

General Hux finds planning training methods for Ren to be more difficult than he first thought. Every other subordinate he had trained before Ren, there had been a physical intimacy between them, and very little had been off the table. It was much easier to humiliate and break a man when he gave you complete control over his entire being.

Training Ren without resorting to that proved difficult, resulting in an itch under his skin that he wanted to scratch. Ren was handsome, in his own strange way. But he was also off limits. That was a step that Hux had declared wasn’t on the table, and was happy to stick to. The idea of seeing Ren undressed and debased made him strangely uncomfortable, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. His frustration leads to Mitaka’s visits only increasing in frequency, despite the fact he barely has the time for it.

“What was your favourite part of training under me?” Hux asks the man, admiring how pretty he looks when he gazes up with lidded eyes, every single part of the officer exuding reverence for his General.

“Breathplay, General,” he answers immediately, Hux rewarding him with a little smirk. He was well aware that this was something Mitaka enjoyed in any shape or form.

Hux liked the control that such things gave him. He liked to _take_ and show that he was capable of anything. There was a heady rush that came from hands wrapped around a throat, tightening and increasing in pressure, the threat of their death lingering heavy in the air. Hux isn’t sure what that says about him. It isn’t the fact that the act is so close to murder that pleases him so much. It’s more the fact that it _isn’t_ murder. He wants to bring a person so close to their end, and see nothing but acceptance on their face. A willingness to die if that’s what their General wanted of them. Complete faith in his hands, in his choices, in his word. There are very few ways to achieve such a power high, and even with men as willing and eager as Mitaka, it never quite reaches that level he wants it to. Mitaka likes tape over his mouth, even a pressured hand while being taken from behind. It simply wasn’t the same. Hux had wrapped his fingers around the man’s throat only twice. It had been pleasurable for the both of them at first, but Hux had gone too far, had seen the fear in Mitaka’s eyes that made him feel a little ill. His fantasies get out of control too quickly, despite his own intense measurements of himself. He simply wants something that another human is incapable of giving. Nobody could give themselves like that to another.

“We are going to have to start decreasing our time together,” Hux tells him one night, Mitaka dressing slowly enough that Hux can admire the marks he had made over the night.

“I know,” the man responds, nodding in agreement. The tinge of regret in his tone makes Hux incredibly uncomfortable.

It’s at least easier with Ren in that respect, with no true connection of intimacy between them. He trusted his subordinates enough to not get attached to him, but he was aware that some had difficulties along the way. It made him wonder why he didn’t. He felt mildly protective over them, privately proud, but never sad, never regretful. He never missed any of them. It was just training. It was just a release. If they were to die, he would be _incredibly_ annoyed, not because of the loss of someone in his life, but for all those efforts wasted. It’s why he was careful in who he chose. Only the strongest. Only the ones most likely to survive this war they lived in. He hated his time being wasted.

He was determined that Kylo Ren would not be a waste of time.

 

——

 

There’s a vein of selfishness in the drill he has Ren running. They had adapted his training and expanded it, Hux wanting to test his stamina, endurance and agility. There were no training simulations running, no targets to hit or dodge, just an empty hall used for drilling troopers, now designated for Ren alone to run laps.

It begins as ten, Hux seated on the stage of the hall, watching Ren as he runs into the distance, all the way to the far end, until he’s simply a small black mass, then watching him run closer again, determination written on his face. The hall was large enough to accommodate a thousand troopers easily, and the white floor swallows Ren up, the sound of his steps echoing against the empty space. It’s at the seventh lap that Ren takes his shirt off, and it’s finally on the last that Hux lets his datapad sit unused in his lap. Ren is a fine specimen of a human, it would be idiotic to think otherwise. He could do with a haircut, with a little more bulking up, but otherwise he was very satisfactory to look at, to admire. From his muscular thighs to his broad chest and his strangely angular features, Hux had never seen a man like him, and he’s rather glad the man is too busy focusing on his running to notice he’s being stared at. By the time Ren is done and in front of him, he’s starting to perspire just a little bit, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his lips parted as he pants and catches his breath.

“Did I make good time?” Ren asks him as he plants his hands on his hips, stretching his body out in the most distracting way, enough so that Hux can’t decide if he wants him to run in his robes to be less of a distraction, or in even less clothing to entertain his mind more.

“Hm? I’m not timing you,” he tells Ren with a wave of his hand, noting the man’s furrowed brow. He knows what’s wrong. He doesn’t even need to know Kylo intimately to know what sort of man he was. His relationship with Snoke spoke volumes for that. He thrives off attention and praise. He wants a time to beat so that Hux may congratulate him on a job well done. “This is for me to see how long you can last, not how quickly you can accomplish the task. I imagine you’ll come to regret your haste when you resume.”

He only frowns more. “You didn’t tell me that-“

“I tell you what I want to. You follow the orders and don’t question them.”

That dark scowl, and echoing silence.

“Do I make myself clear Ren?” He asks, folding his hands in his lap. Ren knows what answer he wants, and yet, he has still never given it without hesitation, without glaring and fighting against him. Hux can only wonder if Ren is even capable of what he’s trying to train him for.

“Yes. General.”

Hux wants to smile or even smirk, but he keeps his face blank and unreadable, not even giving in to the temptation to let his eyes slide down the planes of Ren’s bare chest, or worse, to lose himself in imagining pressing his tongue against that exposed skin.

No.

Unacceptable.

“You are to run now, until you cannot run any more,” Hux tells him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And I do not mean until you decide you want to stop. I mean if your legs ache, keep going. If your lungs burn, keep going. If your stomach spasms and you throw up, keep going. When you want to collapse, keep going. Then when you actually do collapse, then we are finished here.”

He can see Ren assessing him, trying to work out if he’s bluffing, if he actually wants him to do this. If he really wants him to push his body that far.

“Why are you still standing here Ren?”

To his credit, Ren only takes a moment before starting up again, giving Hux the faint buzz of a power high at having his orders followed.

He stops counting after six hours. He has his dinner brought to him in the hall, and has Phasma come and give him updates on her work. He watches as the fatigue washes over Ren, as the man fights through it and keeps on running. Hux has two troopers take him to the med bay after he hits the floor with an echoing thud at some point during the evening. He has them destroyed afterwards, indulging Ren in keeping his face hidden. Only he and droids attend to Ren during his three day stay in the med bay, recovering from the intensity of the task. Hux allows him to eat a chocolate pudding, which seems to please Ren in the most baffling way, and in turn, making his own stomach twist strangely.

 

  
——

 

The message from Snoke for Ren’s presence comes as a mixed blessing. The absence of guidance from his master had begun to set him on edge, a new wave of paranoia bleeding into his already agitated state. He had requested his audience three times only to have it denied, only to be told to _wait_. This was normal since his arrival on the Finalizer. But with an area of his mind locked away, full of secrets about The General, Ren feels sure they are related.

Being sent to The Finalizer had not been easy for Ren. He had spent the over ten standard years in the citadel with his master and the Knights of Ren, and to suddenly be alone was a difficult experience for him. Back on the citadel his time had been split between missions with his knights, and entering a form of stasis with Snoke. With so many years spent as almost part of a hive mind, it had been difficult for him to adjust. Snoke’s contact with him had been a lot less than he felt he needed, and just as Ben Solo had once felt, it made him feel abandoned. His temper was not something he had ever cared to keep in check, but it worsened without the constant presence of other Force users who understood him, or without the guiding mind of his master. He had felt untethered and alone, and it certainly felt like everyone on the Finalizer was going out of their way to antagonise him, especially General Hux.

Every time Snoke called on him, he felt a sense of untempered relief, sure his master could sense his anxieties, and was generous enough to lift the burdening weight from his shoulders. Snoke wanted him to succeed. Had sense greatness in him when everyone else had seen something to fear. Snoke was the only one he could rely on, the only one who he could trust.

And yet, he was keeping a _secret_ from his master.

He’s impatient in his eagerness as he responds to a message demanding his presence in the Finalizer’s throne room, built specifically with high powered processors that provided a link whenever their Supreme Leader desired it. Even when he wasn’t being called on, Ren would often use the room to meditate, imagining he can feel his Masters approving gaze upon him.

He’s glad the mask is affixed firmly to his face as he sweeps his way into the room, hiding the wincing worry he feels seeing Snoke already patched through, inwardly punishing himself for being late, despite the fact that he had rushed here as quickly as possible.

“Master, you summoned me?” Ren inquires, folding himself into a pliant bow, his cape-like robe billowing around him.

He had already reminded himself on how to behave during his rush here. _Do not think about the General. He does not matter. Nothing is wrong. Nothing has happened._

Snoke assesses him silently, leaning forwards on that throne, the gigantic hologram startlingly detailed, allowing Ren to see every mar that sat upon his master’s decaying face.

“I have a mission for you and your knights,” Snoke answers him, saying nothing of what came of his assessment of Ren. For this the man is glad. “The next cycle, you are to board a travel shuttle and meet them on Butlers Cove. You will give the coordinates M-10 to the General today, and he will secure the shuttle for you.”

The coordinates meant nothing to Ren, but he found himself nodding away at Snoke. It did not matter where this place was, or even how he got there. All that mattered was the mission.

“There you and your knights are to locate a creature who will hone your skills in communing with one another. You will understand on arrival. You are dismissed Kylo Ren.”

Before he even has a chance to unleash a barrage of questions onto Snoke, the hologram is flickering into nothingness, leaving him alone in the expanse of the throne room, having barely been allowed to utter a word to his mentor. He felt no comfort, only frustration, only rules and tasks and suffocating abandonment. Just like everyone else.

 

  
——

 

When General Hux finds Ren, the scorch marks in the chamber are still glowing an angry red, the tip of his saber buried into one of the metal panels that make up the walls. While designed to hold up against the stress of hyperspace and prolonged flight, the ships designers hadn’t thought to test how well the ships interior would hold up against the lightsaber of an ill tempered child. The panels had caved and crumpled easily under the heat of the plasma energy, exposing wiring that sparked and spat in the direction of the heaving man.

Patrolling troopers had alerted him to the flickering lights and sounds of destruction, one of them thinking it was appropriate to _snigger_ at how Ren sounded like a dying Rancor. The General had calmly ordered the trooper to remove his helmet, unholstered his hand blaster, and executed him on the spot. “Does anyone else have any disrespectful remarks to make about your superiors?” Hux had asked, met with a chorus of “No General!” While he had often made plenty of remarks about Ren himself, he would not have stormtroopers thinking and acting above their station. The quick and public execution reminded his troops what he required from them, and what would happen to those who had stepped out of line.

He glanced over the small group of subordinates in the room, scanning the unhidden faces for anything that might displease him, and lingering even longer on the helmeted witnesses. Let them think that he could gaze right through the plastoid helmet and see anything they thought they could conceal. “Clean this mess up,” he ordered to the nearest crew member, before turning to the remaining trooper who had brought him the news.

“Where did you say he was again JB-3065?” Hux asks, sliding his blaster back into the holster that sat on his hip, under his billowing greatcoat.

“In holocomm chamber B, General,” she answered quickly, clearly eager to not make the same mistake as her deceased squad mate. “Lord Kylo Ren entered alone, and it was during my third lap of the corridor that I heard the commotion. I had wanted to enter and see if Lord Kylo Ren had needed any assistance, but JB-3384 had insisted that entering would result in our deaths, and that it would be wiser to report this incident to a superior. I insisted on bringing this straight to you General, as I thought the matter important enough to bother you with. I apologise if this was not the case.”

“Very well. Take me to him.”

She certainly was a brave one. Most crew members had learned not to approach Ren during one of his outbursts, usually just ignoring him and pretending they saw nothing, leaving someone else to pick up the broken pieces.

“JB...your squadron is under Junior Captain Baspet, correct?”

“Yes General,” she answers immediately. “I have been with Junior Captain Baspet ever since my graduation. It’s an honour to serve under such a capable captain, and if it’s not too bold of me to say General, it’s an honour to serve you.”

While well trained, it wasn’t common to see a stormtrooper with such opinions. With such enthusiasm for their position. Even those who had been trained in the program since a young age had a blander outlook on life, with a lot less personality. It wasn’t something exactly encouraged.

“You are aware that if you had entered the chamber, your life may very well have been forfeit?”

She nods her head, the helmet bobbing almost comically. “Yes General. But I would be honoured to die in service, whether it be in a circumstance such as this, or in battle. I had hoped it wouldn’t be the case. I will be honoured to give my life to the First Order any time, but continuing to live and attempt to fulfil my ambitions is much more rewarding.”

“Ambitions?” He asks, unable to resist letting out a sharp attempt at a chuckle.

She seems to hesitate to answer her, and he can’t help but wonder if he had caused her some form of embarrassment.

“Yes General. I am aware of the rarity of the situation, but it is my understanding that there have been cases where stormtroopers were allowed a chance to study at the Officers Academy on Arkanis. The near impossible chance does not bother me, General. It’s a goal I like to try and work towards.”

Hux does not speak with the trooper any longer, letting silence fall between them as they walk through the ship to where Ren was. The sound of boots on the ground and the hum of the ship was interrupted every now and again by passing subordinates offering a “General” at Hux as they walked by. She was a peculiar one. Usually those rare troopers who were transferred to Arkanis Academy were either enlisted soldiers who worked their way up, or exceptionally talented younglings. She was neither. Yet she still held onto such dreams. He makes a mental note to run over her last evaluation and discuss this with Phasma. Even if she were not a suitable candidate for the Academy, she might prosper in a different squadron, one that wasn’t currently running guard duty.

He has her switch shifts with fresh troopers, ordering nobody to enter the chambers under any circumstances. Usually Ren would just be left to his wreckage, Hux and the crew forced to clean up the mess afterwards. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was attempting to diffuse the situation, especially when any previous attempts during the beginning of his placement had ended catastrophically. He had learnt that no amount of scolding or shouting orders would deter Ren, and would likely only serve to anger him further. Hux’s priority was whatever path resulted in the least damages to his ship. He supposed in part he was beginning to feel some level of responsibility over the man. Just like with the ship, it was up to him to keep Kylo Ren in working condition.

He has to force himself to not balk at the state of the room, at the damage the man had caused with his Saber. The holo-link would be completely unusable, meaning he would have to rush prioritise this in case Snoke wanted to contact the Finalizer this way. Their Supreme Leader would want the repairs done with haste, but he wasn’t the one who had to deal with funding and incident reports. Not even The General could simply gain what he needed with a flick of his wrist. Nothing was ever that simple.

Kylo was a sight that was impossible to ignore, even surrounded by sparking and malfunctioning hardware. He was unmasked, the offending bucket out of sight, his thick black hair obscuring his eyes, falling over his face haphazardly, clinging to his wet skin. Whether Kylo’s face was damp from sweat or tears, he couldn’t tell. He could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the trembling hands wrapped around the hilt of the saber, but not his face. He wasn’t even sure if Ren was aware he had entered the room.

“You might want to disengage your lightsaber, Ren,” he says casually in lieu of a greeting, clasping his hands behind his back.

The response is painful. Instead of shutting off the weapon and pulling it back, Ren instead drags the blade down through the scorching metal, taking out two new panels before yanking the saber away, the hum ringing in his ears as Kylo swung the blade precariously in the air, leaving the General glad he had decided to linger near the door. Volatile without any extra circumstances, Hux wasn’t familiar enough with the man’s lightsaber to know if it was prone to overheating or malfunctioning, and the sooner the room ceased to be bathed in that sickly red glow, the better.

“Ren,” he says quieter this time, but firmer, hoping that a different tone might find him easier, and bring him out of his rage and into the now. “Ren. Put your saber down.”

When Ren finally looks up at him, he sees a tortured pain in those brown glassy eyes, something that makes him startlingly uneasy. Ren seems to sense this, staring a moment too long before the blade flickers and dies, the Knight tossing it to the floor, the sound of the clattering making the General wince.

“If you are here to shout about your precious ship....” Kylo begins, silenced and narrowing his eyes as Hux holds up a gloved hand.

“I came to see if you were okay,” he admits, before striding over in Ren’s direction, closing the gap between them.

He knows that when Ren sinks to the floor with thudded knees it’s a sign of anguish and exhaustion, and not one of proffered submission. But he won’t act any differently. He puts a hand on the man’s shoulder, guiding him to rest his head against his stomach, sighing in relief when Ren suddenly wraps his arms around his thighs. The position is awkward at best, but if Kylo needed to let things out, better he do it with some source of comfort. He busies himself with carding fingers through Ren’s hair, trying to right the mess of it, pushing strands away from his morose face. He had been crying, and it made Hux realise that in all the instances when his ship had been damaged by Kylo, not once had he thought to ask why the tantrum occurred; what had happened to upset him so. He wonders if this makes him callous or unfeeling. But he has to be a General first. Has to keep his ship and crew under control the best he can. Ren had been on the same level as an asteroid. Dangerous enough to cause harm, but easily ignored and pushed away.

“Ren, I would like to know what happened,” he says, finally breaking the silence, moving to rest a gloved hand atop the man’s curls, ever so slightly curling his palm around the back of his skull. “Did something happen with Leader Snoke?”

Kylo lets out a muffled growl against Hux’s uniform, gripping fabric harder, likely leaving creases and crumpled where there should be none. He will have to change as soon as he leaves the room. The idea of walking around in a marred uniform makes him feel a little unwell.

“What has upset you so much Ren?” He asks again, trying something different to try and get a response out of him. “I am your _Master_. I want you to tell me what happened.”

Kylo pulls away from him so fast Hux is sure he has given himself whiplash, the man offering him a vitriolic stare that had Hux immediately aware that he had played the wrong hand. Kylo had wanted comfort, not command. Neither of them utter a word as Kylo rises to his feet, picking up his battered mask off the floor, and slowly placing it on his head. Hux had expected that lightsaber to already have gored him. But Ren keeps it disengaged, seemingly satisfied with his destruction of the ship. That rage from him had seemingly ebbed enough away that the mistake of the General wasn’t enough to ignite it once more.

“Prepare me a shuttle for M-10, General,” Ren tells him with detached authority, the voice modulator and mask hiding any personal feelings or afflictions. “I am undertaking a mission with my Knights. I will be leaving at the beginning of the next cycle.”

General Hux finds himself once again stunned to silence as Ren sweeps out of the room, leaving him alone in the mess of severed wiring and sparking tech. He finds it is becoming an increasingly common situation to find himself in. Perhaps he is the one with whiplash. It’s easy to feel buffeted by Kylo’s roiling emotions, and even more difficult to find secure ground now he’s allowing himself to get closer to the man.

He doesn’t understand him one bit.

He’s not sure he ever will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friendos. I feel the need to add a disclaimer based on what happened in this chapter, and what will happen in the future. Do not try anything these men do at home. They do not practice bdsm in a way that is appropriately safe. They are not good examples to follow. These are flawed characters, who are in the process of learning. Not all they do together will not fall in the lines of SSC. 
> 
> Do not attempt to run until you pass out. Do not attempt to run at all tbh. It’s overrated.


	7. Chapter 7

There is no physical embrace when Kylo Ren steps off of his shuttle to join the Knights of Ren on the ship. Instead he’s greeted by something much stronger, much more palpable. The power of their force bond thrumming through them, the Knights envelop him in projected feelings of happiness and comfort. Nobody else had ever been so glad to see him. The Knights operate more often than not like a silent hivemind, leaving themselves bare and unbidden to each fellow knight, feeling the need to conceal nothing from one another. Kylo was their Master, detached from the force bond his Knights naturally shared, but still just as important to them.

Of the seven, three of the knights were former students of the Jedi temple, brought to Snoke after Kylo had massacred everyone else. Two of them had been groomed by the Supreme Leader since birth. One had been scouted by Kylo alone, and the newest and youngest member had been located on Snokes command. They were all misfits, living on the fringes of society, accepted by no one but each other. It was as Knights of Ren that they found a home for the first time, that they carved out a family. Kylo had never truly felt that connection they shared. But he felt accepted by them, loved and revered in equal measure. He was their leader, and they would not have it any other way.

The power of their combined emotions assaulting his own senses have him staggering a little, hand going to his helmet as if to steel himself. He’s been apart from them for too long, has grown unused to how they work. He cannot even remember the last time anyone had been inside his head. But verbal communication was rare for the group. The twins Vict and Mara were completely mute, and had been since they were infants, their vocal chords removed in an attempt to encourage them to only communicate through the force. Ren knew that upon discovering the Force sensitive twins, Snoke had hoped they might possess the strength that Luke and Leia Skywalker had. His hopes were dashed, his hopes resulting in power unacceptable for leadership and domination. Still, he had kept them around for several purposes, training and experimenting on them in equal measure. Despite sharing that same bond with their fellow knights, the connection the twins had with one another was something nobody could understand. They could not be separated, not without the both of them descending into violent madness. Ren would never try. He respected them too much to give orders that Snoke once had. They were his loyal knights. They deserved respect.

It’s Nabrina who breaks the silence in his mind, the youngest and newest member of their group, an excitable Twi’Lek female who had been taken from a Slave Master on Coruscant. A particularly beautiful member of her species, with red skin that reminded Kylo of spiced wine, and twin tentacles that grew from her head, shaping all the way down to her slender waist. She had been a dancer on Coruscant, a title the other Knights had informed Kylo was just politeness. She had sold herself into slavery after being ostracised by her clan, and had known little else. Ren had given her a freedom that many of her kind never knew.

‘ _Master Ren, your shuttle took far too long!_ ’ She chirps in his mind, bouncing on her heels in the hangar bay. None of the knights were in uniform, instead wearing the black skin suits they donned under their robes. Here there was no need for ceremony. They were among family, and they had a rare opportunity to be casual, to be just themselves. ‘ _I keep asking Supreme Leader if we can come and visit your ship but he says you are far too busy. We can barely reach your mind when you’re so far away from the Supremacy. We miss you._ ’

He can feel Vorn scolding her for her over-excitement, but Kylo just shakes his head at his second, answering out loud, breaking the physical silence they were all so used to.

“I have missed you all too,” he offers, holding out his hands to his makeshift family. “We have some time before we reach our destination. Let’s meditate together.”

  
It had been months since he had seen them, and for the most part nothing had changed. It was a familiar routine to head into the living quarters of the _Dromund_ , a ship that had been built specifically to transport the Knights of Ren and their Master. He could not count how many times they had sat down atop of woven mats in an impenetrable circle, legs tightly crossed, hands atop their knees. They did not need to touch to feel that connection. The Force did it for them.

To his left sat the mute twins, Vict and Mara both human, each with artificially coloured hair that often changed with their moods. Right now Mara wore hers in a swept back ponytail, a bright green that reminded him of the acid vats used by Thorilide miners. Vict’s hair was the same length, reaching the middle of his back, though he wore his in a neat crown of braids that framed his pale face, the white hair making him almost colourless, if it wasn’t for the Force changed eyes, firey hues of red and amber, an indication of just how connected to the dark side all of them were. The twins sit the closest to one another, knees brushing against each other, not out of need for connection, but from a familial bond that Kylo did not fully understand. Many times he had seen Vict curled up in Mara’s lap like an exotic pet, and they both slept clutching each other tightly, as if someone might threaten to come and tear them apart. If someone did try, they would face the untempered wrath of Kylo Ren.

Next to Vict sat Nico and Rane, the two young men he had taken from the Jedi temple, saving them from the fates of their fellow students, and more importantly, saving them from Skywalker. Nico’s umber face was covered with a multitude of gold markings that seemed to shift as if they were alive. While they were not permanent markings on his skin, Kylo had never seen him without such adornments. It was well known that Nico had a taste for opulence alongside power. His attraction to all things shiny was both a blessing and a curse. Where Nico was bold and often jovial, Rane was the absolute opposite, stoic and calculating. He had been immensely unpopular at the temple, and the Chiss male seemed to suit that just fine, having no desire to make companions of his classmates, something that Skywalker had often tried to force him to do. Within the Knights, when Rane wanted solitude, he was granted it. They respected what he needed.

Opposite Kylo sat his second, a human who had chosen the name Vorn, not knowing his own. Kylo had found him after the man had captured the Silencer with a band of pirates he led. Sensing the presence of a Force sensitive member, Kylo had allowed it. Overshadowing Ren in age and size, Vorn was a hulking figure, capable of surprising feats of agility and intelligence. Vorn had only agreed to join Kylo’s knights on the condition they fight for it. If it hadn’t been for Kylo’s superior connection to the Force, he might have ended up indentured into a life of piracy until Snoke or the other knights came to his aid. But Kylo had won their battle, earning scars that he had not let bacta gel erase, a request of his new companion that they wear the memories of their meeting on their skin. Ren trusted the man to lead the Knights when he was not around. While there was no formal hierarchy, they all knew that Ren wished for Vorn to lead when needed.

A petite slip of a girl sat next to Vorn, her face the very picture of unguarded innocence, the opposite of what one would expect from a Knight of Ren. Kylo was well aware just how deceiving her looks could be. He had seen her on the battlefield, that innocent face coated with blood, those doe-eyes sharp and focused on a target. Texi was the last human he had taken from the Jedi temple, knowing what kind of darkness lay in her heart, and how she could use it to her advantage. She had very nearly been a victim of Kylo’s destruction, but had almost effortlessly emerged from blazing chambers unharmed, and had all but demanded that Kylo take her with him. She had never felt like she had belonged under Skywalker’s tutelage. If Kylo was leaving, then so was she.

Nabrina had taken the place next to Kylo, much more excited than the rest of them to see him again, having spent too little time in his company. She had barely been with the knights a year before Kylo had been ordered onto the Finalizer, meaning that the bonding time he had enjoyed with all the other knights had been cut short for them. He could feel her emotions on this matter, how she yearned to meld their minds together and spend as much time as possible in one another’s company. There was a faint string of possessiveness lingering in her thoughts, a desire to command all of his time, thinking that the other knights had already had many years to get to know their Lord. He found her interest in him endearing.

The force bond between them and the connection that included Kylo was an amalgamation of seven individuals, all functioning as one. Still, there were threads that could be followed in the pulsing glow that enveloped them all, little parts of unique consciousness that could not be absorbed by the linking of their minds. The twins almost functioned as a singular unit, a beast with two heads, usually mimicking and agreeing with one another, always loud enough to be heard. In comparison, Rane’s mind always felt distant, a part of themselves closed off, memories that not even his closest companions were permitted to see. While the knights connected with each other on all levels, emotional, physical and carnal, it seemed that since he had left them, the connection between Vorn and Texi had grown. They both send waves of emotion through the force, a desire to protect one another against everything. It was something Kylo would encourage. Whatever happiness his knights could find, they deserved it.

Family was something Kylo Ren had never had. Ben Solo had suffered through a mockery of one. But this was a family of his own making and choosing, individuals who could understand his power like no other, who he could count on no matter what. They had their own goals and agendas set by Snoke, but he knew deep down, they were his. Even the twins would choose him over their Supreme Leader, if they had to. He had only ever been their Master. Kylo had made every effort to be their brother.

 

  
When they find that connection in the force, the physical melts away, leaving them in a place much brighter and calmer than the place Kylo visits in his solitary meditations. Not even Snoke could peer into this place. It had been built to represent all of the group, an illusion of sorts with incredible fortitude. Ren and his knights could meditate here for uncalculated amounts of time, needing to consume no food or water, nor needing to sleep, the Force sustaining their bodies, even as they travelled across the deep expanse of space. The real world and all its issues were unimportant. Here was the closest thing any of them had to a home.

A mish-mash of cultures and environments, each of them had helped flesh out the world they called home, containing things to link them to their pasts, to inspire happiness and peace. A large cottage-like abode sits on the lip of a crystalline lake, floating rocks lazily spinning and turning above the surface, the amethyst chunks creating small ripples in the places where they dip low enough to graze the waters surface. On the other side of the lake a small herd of Rycrit graze at the Chandrillan grass. In the distance, great blue mountains reminiscent of Csilla were bathed in the white light of Coruscant Prime, the three moons of Csilla barely visible in the far distance. Blueblossom trees framed a shaded area next to the home, with sprays of green daisies dotting the lush grasslands. The home itself had been designed around rich Coruscanti apartments, with sleek and minimalist furniture that would have cost thousands of credits had it been real. The crowning glory of the cottage of course was the bed, dwarfing everything else, large enough to fit Ren and all his knights, all of them finding comfort in a shared space.

Here, nothing could harm them. They could live without fear or judgement, without war and violence. Here they could be a real family. They had spent months at a time here, meditating in the real world, sustained by the force as they revelled in their home.

He could see his brothers and sisters clearly, making themselves comfortable in a space he had been away from for too long. Forgoing clothes, the twins had already taken to swimming in the lake, splashing and yelling at each other, peals of laughter filling the tranquil quiet. Vorn and Texi sat near the waters edge, the man’s large hands working on weaving delicate flowers together that he intended to place atop Texi’s head. Across from them Rane was attempting to get Nabrina to train with him, while Nico seemed intent on pulling faces behind the Knight’s back.

Dressed in robes that were a jet black version of padawan Ben’s clothing, Ren takes a seat in the soft grass with Vorn and Texi, the latter offering him a smile that shone brighter than the sun in the sky.

“Who is Hux?” She asks, not bothering to beat around the bush. With a shared consciousness, it was near impossible to keep secrets from his Knights. His mind lay open and vivisected for all of them to see. Despite difficulties, Ren would not have it any other way.

“ _General_ Hux,” Vorn corrects, taking a flower from her small hand, tutting a little. “You should always respect rank, people work hard to earn such titles. But yes Ren, who is this General Hux? He spreads through your mind like a creeping vine, infiltrating every corner.”

Kylo chuckles a little at that, plucking a blade of grass from the earth, rubbing it between his fingers. How could he even begin to describe the General, and why he was a constant presence in his mind? He couldn’t. So he did the next best thing. He opened up doors to memories, showing both Texi and Vorn what had transpired between them, from a tense meeting aboard the Supremacy, to present day, the still too raw memory of Ren sobbing into the man’s greatcoat in frustration.

The silence that follows is not awkward, rather complacative, the two of them unpacking what they had seen and experienced from Ren’s point of view.

“He’s handsome, you should kill him,” Texi says cheerfully, unaware of the confliction in her statement, Vorn flicking her on the cheek.

“Not everyone feels the need to kill someone they think attractive Tex’,” he points out, shaking his head. “It’s more than that, can’t you see? You don’t want to kill me. It’s like you and me.”

“No it’s not. He’s force blind. He isn’t worthy of Lord Ren. He’s just a pretty distraction.”

“Force Blind he may be, but perhaps the Force is putting them in each other’s path?” Vorn challenges. “Just like it put Ren in mine. Things rarely happen by chance. If there is some kind of connection, he should pursue it. Ren, you should follow that thread.”

Blinking a little, Ren can only shake his head at the two of them. They both made valid points, he just didn’t know how to make any real sense of them. “The General has this preposterous idea that Leader Snoke’s training is failing me. That I will never reach full potential under him.”  
Lo  
The shared glances and following silence from the pair tells him all he needs to know about their opinion.

“Our loyalty is to you Lord Ren, not to Snoke,” Vorn tells him, well aware that the statement has the twins stopping in the water, glancing over at him in unison. “Oh stop it you two, I know you feel the same, even if it messes with your heads. Snoke has been good to us, but I think this General is right. Your power is greater than ours could ever be. Which means there is more for you to struggle to control. You’ve been through hell Ren, and that takes its toll. We will follow you anywhere. Even if it means following you on this General’s path.”

“You really support our Lord being on his knees for someone?” Mara and Vict ask in unison, both glaring as they approach the group, Mara deliberately shaking her wet hair in their direction. “He belongs under no one. To want such a thing is a disgrace. An errant thought that needs slaughtering.”

Vorn lets out a loud snort, shaking his head, his whole body threatening to shake with laughter. “Where I come from, fucking someone with the same blood is a disgrace. But you two have been rubbing up against one another since you knew how to.”

The glare the two give him is murderous, though Vict’s cheeks are stained red with embarrassment. “This is coming from the legendary Pirate King who gets off on being a little bitch to Texi,” Mara snaps at him hotly, Vict now silent in the matter.

“Hey!” Texi yells, her chest puffing out, fists balling in barely controlled rage. “Only I get to call him a bitch! Back off!”

“Enough,” Ren says quietly, his authority travelling through the force in suffocating vibrations, all of his knights falling obediently silent. “This bickering is unbecoming of all of you. We are a family, and we accept every part of each other, whether it be strength or flaw. Vorn, the twins connection may be frowned upon in your culture, but remember before we came along, all they had was each other. Their bond should be celebrated instead of shamed here. And you two, less of the name calling. If Vorn wishes to submit himself to Texi in...that manner, then who is it harming? Likely it is strengthening him. We all need somewhere to go to when the world gets too much.”

It’s Vorn who breaks the silence, his trusted second, the wisest of all his Knights. “If it’s okay for us to have those things Ren, then why shouldn’t you allow yourself them too?”

Kylo’s face in response is only crumpled in a mix of his increasingly conflicted emotions.

Why shouldn’t he be allowed what all the others have? What was the point in denying those feelings?

 

———

 

General Hux knows Phasma is growing tired of him when she switches from body slamming him to the floor, to sitting on his chest, arms folded across her own.

“Get off me, you weigh more than a TIE fighter,” Hux snaps, pushing against the immovable object he was sure was going to crush his ribs.

“It’s a good job I’m not easily offended,” Phasma retorts, looking down at him with those expressive blue eyes she kept hidden. “Are you going to tell me what’s gotten you so distracted?”

“No.”

“Then I’m going to continue sitting on you.”

Phasma lifts her hand, inspecting her fingernails as if she had all the time in the world. Armitage was well used to the Captain’s stubbornness. That didn’t mean he liked it. They had been strange friends since their days at the Academy, rising in the ranks with each other, Phasma seemingly making it her personal goal to protect him and annoy him all at the same time. They had both been disliked as teenagers, both focus on a goal of succeeding over everything else. When people were cruel about Armitage’s appearance, he paid it no mind. When they were so towards Phasma, he always tended to see red. The woman that now sparred with him was a more confident version of herself, one much more comfortable in her own skin. As it was with Hux, it hadn’t always been that way. They had both suffered through an awkward phase where they felt uncomfortable in their own bodies, unable to fully command themselves.

After he graduated and she did not, Hux and the Captain had drifted apart, only to meet again by chance. She had returned to her home planet, and he had been thrust right into battle, leading his own squad. Hux had struck a deal with her, and their alliance had been forged anew. Now it seemed, he was stuck with her.

The problem wasn’t really telling her in particular what was on his mind, it was rather admitting it to himself. He had spent countless hours complaining to her about “that Jedi spectre” that stalked his ship, it seemed ridiculous that now he might talk about how that same man was burying himself under his skin. He wondered if his ambivalence towards most people was a contributing factor to how he felt towards Phasma, or even Ren. He either felt nothing, or he felt too much. He wasn’t often capable of feeling everything in between.

“Can you at least get off me before you crush my lungs?” He asks with a groan, pushing her again, his friend finally giving way and rolling off of him, laying down next to him on the training mat.

He lets a long silence stretch out between them before he speaks. She won’t rush him, and he needs the time to collect his thoughts, to prepare him for the onslaught that was coming. “I’m Domming Kylo Ren,” he says with a sigh, closing his eyes. He even felt like a mad-man just for saying it out loud.

“Good,” Phasma says firmly, to his infinite surprise.

“Good? That’s it? You’re not going  
to suggest I march myself to reconditioning with the troopers? Not going to slap some sense into me? Tell me that I’ve finally snapped and this is the stupidest idea I’ve ever had?”

Phasma simply shakes her head, offering the General a wry smile. “The man could use some discipline, and you could use an outlet that’s not losing to me in sparring matches,” she tells him, turning her head in his direction, those glittering blue eyes boring into him.

She’s not wrong about Kylo Ren. He was tethered by a fraying string, and clearly blossomed under approval from anyone with authority. Hux did not know much about his life before coming onboard the Finalizer, but it’s easy to imagine a youth with that same dark hair, those same betraying eyes, desperate for adulation from another. He himself, found peace in being that sort of person for another. It was a role he fit into easily.

Everything always seems so straightforward from Phasma’s point of view. Whether it be related to her personal life or her work here, she never seemed to second guess herself, always seemed to have a plan in motion. It was that sureness that had further cemented their friendship later in life. They both had goals in life, and both made no attempt to hide that they would step on anyone to get to the top, even each other. If a betrayal ever came from Phasma, he would not be as surprised by it as others might be. There was a personal and emotional connection between them both, but it would be trumped by business and aspirations. He truly did like her, but if he had to choose between rising to a more coveted position and her very life, there would be no hesitation. They had made a pact long ago not to begrudge one another if such a thing should happen. They both expected the other to put up a fight. They also had agreed that in such a situation, they would deliver the killing blow themselves.

It was an odd friendship. One he didn’t expect anyone else to understand. But he cherished it nonetheless.

Sitting up he kicks her in the ankle to signal he’s ready to begin, an almost feral look gracing her face. “I need to practice my aim with throwing knives. Care to be my target?” He asks her, nodding over to the armour cases that belonged to him alone, most of the weapons crafted by his own hand.

“If you’ll at least let me put my armour on,” she counters, standing up to tower over him, despite his own impressive height. “I know exactly how good you are at aiming for someone’s jugular. I don’t want to be late for the troopers drill practice because I’ve just barely avoided bleeding out at your feet.”

“Why on earth would I go that far?” Hux asks in a tone that sickly sweet and entirely unnerving coming from a mouth that is so often twisted into a displeased snarl. Such cruelty came so naturally to him. “Miss two out of five of my knives and I’ll come sit in on the drills with you, since you’re always bothering me about it.”

“Your presence is good for morale. I can see which troopers piss their pants at the sight of you, and which ones are desperate to lick your boots,” she points out as she begins strapping on her selfmade chromium armour.

“And which one do you prefer them to show?”

She flashes him another grin before she secures her helmet on her head, locking it into place. “A little bit of both, General. Always a little bit of both.”

 

  
——— 

 

 

“Do any of them show any exceptional promise?”

Phasma takes a moment to regard the troops, before shouting. “Ranks FN-218. Commence attack formation C8 on FN-2187.”

Hux watches from the raised platform as the line halts, troopers either side stepping either forwards or backwards to form a perfect square around the line, a well practiced drill showing just how the troopers could be ready for anything at a moments notice. One line of stormtroopers remain, breaking off from their perfect line, swarming around a single trooper like a pack of dogs circling their prey. One by one they drop into battle stance, three troopers at the forefront, with six flanking them. Then, the noise begins. The stamping of plastoid boots in unison form a thundering beat, each watching trooper alert and stomping, Phasma watching on from behind her chromium mask. He wonders how much of her home life influenced her training tactics. Raised in a constant fight for survival, he could imagine a similar scene; the young Phasma surrounded by hollering locals, fighting a rival clan member to the death in the most brutal fashion. Clad in white armour, the unfolding scene seemed more like a dance than a battle. The troopers engage in hand to hand combat, raining blows down on 2187 from all sides. The attacked trooper moves with almost feline grace, swooping and swerving to avoid hits, using his plated arms as makeshift shields, blocking anything he couldn’t avoid. Still, when he drops to the floor to swipe the feet from under three of his enemies, Hux can’t help but find the move clumsy. It leaves him open from behind, miscalculating the closeness of the still standing troopers, one of them delivering a hard kick to his stomach, knocking him down further. 2187 scrambles for purchase, grabbing the attacker by his ankle and pulling him down with impressive force. It seemed once they were down, they were to stay down. Luckily that rule didn’t seem to apply to FN-2187.

“He’s an adept fighter, if not a little unrefined,” Hux comments, his hands folded behind his back, his face an expressionless mask. “Very good. Keep an eye on him Captain Phasma. I trust your judgement when it comes to our troops.”

She nods at him and he turns to leave, before remembering his encounter with the patrolling trooper who had alerted him to Ren’s outburst. “I want a full evaluation on JB-3065. It seems she has aspirations of becoming an officer.”

“She reaches above her station,” Phasma clips, her disdain showing through her voice modulator. “Do you want her sent to reconditioning, or straight to termination?”

He finds it amusing that Phasma thinks it perfectly fine for her to aim for the stars, yet decrees it unacceptable for anyone else to do so.

General Hux offers her a smile that’s all teeth, shaking his head. “Now now Captain, there’s nothing wrong with a little ambition,” he all but purrs. “Let’s see if she’s strong enough to live up to her dreams, shall we?”

He leaves the room with FN-2187 still fighting his comrades, the almost deafening sound of the stormtroopers boots following him through the winding corridors of his ship.

 


End file.
